Sasha
by holymfwickee
Summary: This is the beginning of Nessie's story. She's grown, and even with the strength and intelligence of a vampire, she can't escape the confusion and flaws which come from being human. New characters. Twilight Award & an Indie Twific Award Shortlist Nominee.
1. And I Wish that You Could See

This is the first story in a five part series entitled, _Damn Imprinting_. As mentioned in the summary, this story is the beginning of Nessie's story and begins (as so many fictions do) on her sixth birthday.

Many thanks to the lovely Addicted to Edward for her excellent work beta-ing this story. This story can also be found on Twilighted. Find the linkage on my profile.

The narration changes from chapter to chapter. Although it's mostly narrated by Nessie, I will mention at the beginning of the chapter if the narration changes.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Twilight_

Disclaimer: I do not own _The Hill_, by Marketa Irglova

**Sasha**

**Part I—Chapter I: And I Wish that You Could See**

"Happy birthday, dear Nessie! Happy birthday to you!" The song rang out happily among my family members. It was my sixth birthday, although I looked like a 21-year-old, a result of my untraditional pedigree. Of course this was an Alice affair, elegant and perfectly coordinated; even the gift wrap matched. This birthday was themed with dark blue and rustic, metallic orange. Alice explained she picked colors that harmonized with the color of my eyes. Twinkling lights were wrapped around nearly every available surface, off-beat indie music played softly from overhead speakers, and an enormous cake sat in the center of the kitchen as an homage to my…existence, I suppose. That is the point of birthdays, isn't it? I questioned who was going to eat the giant iris-and-rose covered-cake. No one in my family ate food. I could have gotten some enjoyment from eating it, I supposed.

"Alice you didn't need to go to all this trouble," I pleaded with my insatiable aunt.

"Never mind," she said, quickly dismissing my pleas. "If we didn't have a cake we'd have nowhere to put the candles. Now make a wish!" I rolled my eyes but blew out the candles obediently.

Alice immediately looked over to my father. "Edward, what did she wish?" she asked, hoping my father would reveal what went on in my mind.

"She didn't wish for anything," he answered with an interested smile. He was right.

"Nothing? Oh Nessie, your birthday wish wasted." Alice's cheery face had fallen into mock disappointment. She wanted every detail of my birthday to be perfect and I knew she hated I didn't always cooperate.

"Well, if I had wished for anything, Dad would have heard it and it wouldn't have come true anyway," I said, justifying myself to her. "I'll save my wish for the next shooting star I see,"

"Oh, fine. Jacob, would you like a piece of cake?"

"Of course Alice!" I had forgotten Jake. He could eat half the cake himself. At least it wasn't going to waste.

"Presents! Presents!" Alice sounded. I begrudgingly headed toward the main sitting room and my parents and the rest of the family soon joined me. Jacob sat next to me on the couch with a piece of cake as large as the plate it was sitting on. "Who first?" Alice sang out.

"Just throw them all at me at once. It'll be faster."

"You are just like your mother. You take the fun out of everything."

I noticed my mother give my father a playful jab of her elbow.

"We'll go first Alice," Esme said over Alice's complaining. Alice handed me a modestly sized white box with a blue ribbon around it. I removed the ribbon and gently lifted the lid. Inside was a small watercolor painting of the driveway to the estate. It was a fall scene and trees, covered in vibrant reds, yellows, and oranges, hung over the path. Underneath the painting was a set of new watercolor paints and a small sketchbook.

"Oh Esme, Carlisle! I love it!"

"Esme painted it," Carlisle explained with a proud smile.

"Esme, I didn't know you used watercolors."

"It's nowhere close to your talent but I found you so inspiring I thought I would give it a try."

"Thank you both. It's beautiful," I said genuinely. I was pleased when I didn't have to lie to my family members. Not that I really could, not all that easily.

"Me next!" Alice practically squealed. She handed me a box which was smaller than the first. I had learned from living with my family never to trust small boxes. They always held the most extravagant gifts as the clichéd adage went. Tentatively – and while preparing my argument for being unwilling to accept the gift – I opened the box. Now to be fair the extravagant part wasn't inside the box. There, lying in a comfortable bed of black velvet was a key. A key with a car alarm keychain attached to it, a key with a tiny Jaguar symbol on it.

"There's no way I can talk you out of this, is there?"

"Nope! You've been able to wriggle out of one of us buying you a car for long enough. Your father finally agreed to let me!" I gave my father a quick look, although I'm sure my mind revealed quite enough to him without it.

"I can't tell you how many dealerships we went to. It was hard for her to decide which car to buy since she had no way of knowing how you would react," Uncle Jasper explained. Yes, she may not have been able to have a vision of me accepting her gift, but surely she knew me well enough to know I didn't want or need a car.

"It's so pretty Nessie!" Alice gushed. "You'll love it. It's understated yet powerful, and the most beautiful shade of dark blue." Of course, even the car matched the party.

"Thank you, Alice," I said as authentically as I could while I pulled her and Uncle Jasper into a hug. The hug was honest, but my next few words weren't exactly so. "I really appreciate it. I suppose I'll have to actually learn how to drive now." Everyone in the room laughed. Truthfully, I never had a real interest in cars or driving, which is why I always insisted that my parents did not need to buy me one. I preferred walking.

"Here you go, Renesmee," Rosalie said to me as she handed me yet another small gift with Uncle Emmett beaming behind her. Her gift was exactly what I expected of her. A beautiful diamond and sapphire bracelet I would probably never wear. Rosalie loved fine things and I loved her for sharing them with me, but they weren't exactly to my taste. She, like Alice, would never give up trying to dress me up and surround me with expensive things. They couldn't help themselves. They just had so much love to give and such endless funds with which to express it. In a way, I think my mother was secretly appreciative of it as the attention was now on me and no longer on her.

Finally, it came to my parents who handed me a large envelope. An even smaller, thinner package…this could not be good. I opened the envelope like I was pulling off a band-aid and drew out a brochure for Dartmouth University. On the cover was a beautiful photo of a few students, dressed in appropriate green sweatshirts, enjoying the scenic campus. I gazed at it, confused. I'd never actually been to a formal school. Jacob leaned over my shoulder to get a better look at the brochure and released an impossibly low growl.

"We thought you might like to enroll," my father explained.

"It doesn't have to be Dartmouth. Any of your father's alma maters would do," my mother quipped.

I forced a smile on my face and flashed it towards them. "Thank you guys. It's a beautiful gesture. Thank you everyone. It was the best birthday yet."

Jacob had finished eating his cake and gently elbowed me, encouraging me to follow him outside. Alice distracted everyone by explaining the superior characteristics of the car, allowing me to escape the fray.

We took a slower pace through the woods we practically had memorized. Jacob. He was my constant and the nearly omnipresent force in my life. From an outside observer we would appear to be best friends, but that didn't quite explain it. When I was young he was like a playmate that always had the energy I had. As I matured the physical play partially ended and we focused on our conversations as a way to strengthen our connection. As I continued to mature I began to understand the whole imprinting process and what I really meant to Jacob. Or at least, I understood the knowing smiles everyone had whenever Jacob and I were together. It was like they were all in on a secret, that Jacob and I were meant for each other. I knew what they thought, what they believed was my…was destiny the right word? I wasn't always sure if I agreed, not because I didn't love him…I think…I just…didn't always agree.

We stopped at the base of a particularly large tree. When I was young we used to race to the top. I always won. Jacob was very fast, but I was far more acrobatic than he was. Today I just leaned against it.

"Some birthday, huh? Maybe you guys should set a price limit instead of trying to outdo each other."

"At least Esme and Carlisle got it right."

"Hey, I haven't given you my gift yet."

"That's right. I can't imagine what it could be." Jacob was standing about six feet from me – an unusual distance for the two of us. Growing up, we were usually within arm's length of one another so I could touch him easily if I wanted to flash a thought to him. The unfortunate side effect of this is some thoughts escape inadvertently. To avoid this, I used my ability less and less these days, choosing to speak for myself instead. I then noticed Jacob stood with both his hands in his pockets. This wasn't his usual stance either. I knew what that meant: small boxes.

"I'm not sure if I want to give it to you now. You seem too depressed. It will ruin the moment."

"Fine, whatever." I slid down the tree and sat on the ground with a quick sigh.

"That's not what you usually say. I say something annoying, you have some sarcastic comment, I say something snarky back, you give me a look, I give in." He closed the strange distance between us and sat down next to me. His speech slowed and he peered at me through my long hair. "Something is really the matter."

"No, nothing…I'm just being a pain. Birthdays…I'm sorry," I apologized quickly, hoping my excuse would satisfy him. It wasn't like me being cranky on my birthday didn't occur annually.

Jacob then asked me something slightly unexpected. He was paying better attention then I would have guessed. "What would you have wished if your dad couldn't hear?"

"I'm not sure," I lied. A blatant lie, really. It was easy to tell this lie. I had been doing it for a long time. The truth was I knew exactly what I would have wished for. Something I had taken exceptional care to hide in my mind. I couldn't know for certain my father had never heard it, but he had also never asked me about it.

"Hey, you know what I'd wish for?"

"What?"

"One more race," he said playfully, his tone completely changed in an effort to diffuse my bad mood.

"Don't you think we're a little old for that?"

"Why? Afraid you'll lose?"

"You're dreaming."


	2. But He Doesn't Seem to See Me

Bella's POV

**Chapter II: But He Doesn't Seem to See Me**

After Nessie and Jacob had left the entire family adjourned to the patio to enjoy the twinkling lights Alice had expertly strung. "Renesmee was right, Alice. This was your best party yet."

"I need to stop topping myself or we're going to go bankrupt soon," Alice said, grinning.

I hated it when they wasted – they would say lavished – _me _with gifts. I was too content with my life, my husband, and my daughter to accept material things. I didn't need them. But lavishing gifts on my daughter made my in-laws too happy to deny them the right to buy her presents. Alice was sure to remind me over and over again that to receive a car on your 21st birthday (theoretically) isn't unheard of.

The air was still, quiet, and made it very easy to relax. Edward sat beside me holding my hand naturally. Alice was lying against Jasper in a chaise longue as she flipped through pictures of the party on her digital camera. Although she was smiling as she relived the moments she could have remembered just as vividly in her own mind, she continued with a more serious question.

"Do you think she'll go to Dartmouth?"

"I'm not sure," Edward responded. He would know best, after all. Nessie didn't jump out of her seat at the idea, yet she didn't seem adverse to it either. Perhaps she was truly surprised by it; we had never suggested she attend school thus far. Besides the fact that she changed physically at an accelerated rate, she'd get a better education between her father and Carlisle. There wasn't any way we could create a "normal" life for her. There wasn't anything to compare her life to. We could only seek to make her happy.

"She'd be top in her class for sure," Alice said candidly. Carlisle and Esme agreed.

"You know what I think? She should stay here and train," Emmet said excitedly. "The kinds of things Jasper and I could teach her. She'd excel at all of them. And Alice could help her get control of her projection abilities. She could be the most fearsome vampire around." He was sitting in a large wicker chair with Rosalie on his lap while she admired her nail polish. He jostled her a little bit when he gestured enthusiastically and she smacked him the chest with the back of her hand.

"Why would we want that for her, Emmett?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Let's face the facts, Bella. She's a target for just about every crazed supernatural creature around – not to mention the Volturi! Everyone is going to want to have her as a trophy. There's only so much we can do."

"That is the kind of thing we'll consider if we ever find ourselves in that situation," Edward said with fatherly authority, hoping to end the conversation.

Emmett had mentioned many of the things Edward and I feared, yet everything had been peaceful since we last saw the Volturi when Renesmee was only months old. No visits, no calls, and no weird diamond necklaces as gifts. In the moments when I remembered how close we came to losing everything I would say a prayer for this uninterrupted peace to continue. On occasions such as Nessie's birthday, I said the prayer more than once.

The conversation had made Edward a little uncomfortable. I knew because he clutched my hand a little bit tighter.

"What were you planning on doing if she were to attend school?" Rosalie asked, ignorant to Edward's anxiety.

"If she decided to attend Dartmouth, we would go with her. There's no sense in her being alone." None of us enjoyed being alone and I knew I wouldn't be able to handle being separated from my daughter. I was one of _those_ mothers.

"Jacob will make sure of that," Jasper quipped. "That boy is not going to let you take that girl a yard from this house unless the two of them are attached, in the biblical sense that is."

"Renesmee is too young for all that." I clutched Edward's hand a little tighter now.

"That's not how Jacob sees her. I don't have to be a mind reader to see that."

I was sure being an empath helped to inform his opinion.

Edward unexpectedly dropped my hand and I immediately looked over at him. He now had his arms folded tightly over his chest. His perfect demeanor was faltering as he stared at an imaginary spot on the wooden patio floor, deliberately avoiding my gaze. It was something he didn't do very often. It wasn't a good sign.

"I wish I could see her future. All this indecision makes me uncomfortable," Alice said with an uncharacteristic whine in her voice.

Nessie always was one for indecision. It drove Alice crazy. I shook my head and wished I could see what Edward was thinking that caused him to mentally curl up inside himself. Probably the same thing I was, the somewhat daunting thought of losing our daughter at such a young age, yet understanding the kind of connection she and Jacob had. It was a compromise we all knew was coming, but we hadn't yet figured out how we would cope once it happened. It was simultaneously exciting and painful to think about. What were those two doing right now?

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. I had never seen seven vampires look surprised all at once. Nothing ever surprised us. We could always sense when anyone was coming, especially if they were so close they could knock on the door.

"What was that?" I asked out loud and rather dumbly. It was obviously a knock. Who would knock? We almost never had visitors. My human friends had gone to college, married, and moved out of this tiny, rainy town. There was a small irony: I was the one to become a townie.

No one moved. No one made a sound. We were all searching our instincts. Mine were the youngest and still infinitesimally stronger than my family's, but I came up with nothing. Esme looked over at me and shrugged her shoulders ever so slightly.

"I'll get it," she said, as she was the lady of the house. She stood, slowly and gracefully heading inside toward the front door.

I wondered why we weren't following her, but I figured she must be giving Edward a play-by-play. He and Alice both looked extremely tense; however, neither of their faces developed a satisfying look of enlightenment. Alice must not have seen anything and Esme must not have found any danger. No more than fifteen seconds later, Esme was back with us on the patio, a small paper note in her hand.

"There was no one there. Just a note."

Everyone's eyes scrambled in confusion. A…note? How very innocent and evidently, very intimidating.

Only Carlisle spoke with some certainty in his voice. "Go ahead, Esme."

"Cullen Family…I would like to request a visit with all of you tomorrow evening at seven o' clock. I mean you no harm; however, I must warn you not to use your abilities against me for your own safety. I look forward to meeting all of you. Sincerely, Ántonia Stoichita."

Esme folded the note again. I waited for someone to offer an explanation. No one spoke up. I looked to the patriarch of the family.

"Carlisle, do you know this person?"

"I know _of_ an Ántonia Stoichita. But it couldn't possibly be the same person."

"Who is she?"

"She was a princess in Romania turned vampire over 1500 years ago. She was killed in the Romanian/Italian wars when control was won by the Volturi."

"Why would she be leaving notes on our doorstep?" Forget the _why_, what about the _how_?

"I don't know, Bella."

"Well, she says right there. She wants to meet us," Alice interrupted our fruitless conversation as the voice of reason as always.

"But Carlisle says she's dead."

"Now, I can't say I know for sure she's dead. It's only what the stories say and we all know how inaccurate they can be." Carlisle began to backtrack.

Edward had a very worried, very blank look in his eyes. There was nothing to see, nothing to hear. If it aggravated him he couldn't he couldn't see in my mind, it must torture him not to hear someone coming to the doorstep. I leaned over to touch his shoulder to try to bring him back to my reality. He glanced at me in recognition of my touch, but made no movement otherwise.

"Why wouldn't we want to meet her? We've met every other vampire out there." Alice continued to try to be optimistic.

"Because, if she is alive she would be the most powerful vampire on the planet, the most powerful creature in existence."

"Why?" I asked, feeling like the only one out of the loop.

"She has the ability to absorb, to gain the use of any ability used on her. And if she has been alive these last 1500 years there's no telling how many powers she has."

"But she tells us not to use our powers. Perhaps she's trying to protect us."

"I'm not sure what to think, but I don't think we can refuse her."

"What about Nessie?"

"If past precedent is any indication, Nessie may be what she came here to see."

_I_ now had the worried and blank look Edward was still holding on to. It was then I saw seven vampires turn their heads in the direction of the river, at the same time. Nessie was approaching. We could have recognized the sound of her unusual heartbeat in a crowd of a thousand. We waited in silence until she and Jacob joined us on the patio.

"Hey guys," my little girl said innocently. "What's the matter?"


	3. Someone I Don't Recognize

**Chapter III: Someone I Don't Recognize **

Things were quite tense in the Cullen household. It was 6:47 pm. The seconds ticked by very slowly. Only a few minutes until this mysterious guest would arrive. I didn't quite agree with all the precautions everyone was taking. Jacob had his pack circling the estate while he sat next to me in the living room, ready to phase at any moment. Jasper and Emmett were circling the grounds as well, but no one had latched on to an unidentifiable scent or any indication a stranger was moving among us.

Carlisle and Esme tried their best to appear at ease, mostly because everyone else in the room was absurdly anxious. Aunt Rosalie was sitting in a sofa chair next to Jacob as my first line of defense. I both appreciated and despised her attentiveness; I was young, but I wasn't helpless. Alice was sitting next to my mother on an adjacent couch, and while she was slightly less overprotective than Rosalie, she was practically twitching with impatience. She had no way of seeing what was coming, and it made her extremely uncomfortable, even after living with me for six years. My father paced behind me slowly, back-and-forth, again and again. He must not have been considering the implications of his pacing, because with each edgy pass he made my mother, who was already the most nervous of anyone, increasingly panicked. I couldn't help rubbing my hand against my forehead. The entire scene felt a little melodramatic to me.

"Wouldn't it be better to send Nessie to the reservation?" my mother asked my father on his hundredth circuit through the living room.

"Mom, every wolf from the reservation is surrounding our house. It would be the least safe place right now," I joked, attempting to lighten the tension. They just ignored me.

"Edward?" she asked again.

"We've done everything we can do," my father said unemotionally as he continued with his pacing. He didn't miss one graceful step.

"But you won't be able to hear her." My mother's voice was strained with worry.

"Everything will be fine," he answered her confidently but coldly. He wasn't as confident as he pretended to be.

I was annoyed by what I thought to be an overreaction. "You guys need to stop freaking out. She said she means us no harm. Why would she lie?" I asked, attempting to be the voice of reason. "And if we couldn't sense her last night then that would have been the best time to strike, right? To take us by surprise? If she is trying to attack us, she's never read _The Art of War_."

My mother gave me a cold look that was meant to silence me. Realizing I wasn't going to convince them of anything, I complied as I sat back in the deep chair and counted the seconds passing us by. I was amused at how my father's pacing, Jacob's breathing, and my mother's deliberate adjustments of her hands seemed to work in time with the ticking of the clock.

I jumped slightly when, at the exact moment I said sixty in my head, there was a knock at the door. Apparently, our guest was one for punctuality.

Carlisle stepped forward to open the door while everyone else in the room paused and leaned forward in spontaneous synchronization. I had to lean around Jacob to get a better look at the front door.

She was tiny; no more than 5'3" and impossibly thin. Her attire was off by a few centuries. She was wrapped in a black dress that hid the form of her lower half, and a thin shawl covered her head, masking the bottom portion of her face. Her wavy bright blonde hair flowed from her headdress down to her waist. Her eyes were a deep ebony that showed no trace of crimson. I could tell by the small wrinkles near her eyes that she was smiling. I also noticed there was no new scent in the air, nor had there been a sound as she walked to the door. There had not been a howl from the pack or a phone call from one of my uncles indicating they had seen or heard anything. If I wasn't looking at her standing in the doorway, there was no way I would have known she was there.

"Good evening," she said in a sing-song voice, clear and youthful. "_Alo._ I am Ántonia Stoichita. I left a note the previous evening. I am glad you have decided to allow me into your home."

"It is our pleasure. My name is Carlisle Cullen. This is my wife Esme, my daughters Alice and Rosalie, my son Edward and his wife Bella, and their children, Renesmee and Jacob."

By appearances, Jacob was obviously not my brother. I'm sure she could tell from the smell alone. However, he was a member of the family and the explanation for that was long and exhausting. It was for time and convenience's sake Carlisle introduced us both as Bella and Edward's kids.

"It is such a pleasure to meet all of you. Please, tell your other children they can stop their search for me, for as you see I have arrived," she declared politely.

"I'll do it," Alice volunteered. She quickly exited the room. She probably didn't want to risk seeing a part of Miss Stoichita's future she wasn't supposed to. The more time Alice spent with her, the larger the risk.

What could Miss Stoichita have thought about the pack and the vampires she so easily avoided? The supernatural army surrounding our house was clearly not meant as a welcome wagon, and I felt my face blush in embarrassment over all the precautions we had taken against this perfectly well-mannered person. What a flawlessly rude way to meet a guest.

"Thank you, Alice," Carlisle said as he gestured to the guest to enter the room. "Please, Miss Stoichita."

"Please, call me Ántonia." She glided into the room without making a whisper of a sound. Her movements seemed impossible. I saw her feet touch the floor, but her shoes did not even click against the hardwood. She sat in an armchair across the room from me. Jacob awkwardly leaned over me in an effort to protect me from the petite woman. He must have felt a coffee table was not enough furniture in between us. It didn't seem very polite to make such a defensive motion against her; we'd embarrassed ourselves enough for one evening.

After sitting, the not-so-frightening creature gracefully removed the pins that held the shawl over her face. She was a princess; that much was obvious. She was what I had imagined Sleeping Beauty to look like. However, she did not look her age. The Volturi, who were the only other creatures who could rival her in age, looked paper-thin and hollowed out. This woman looked fresh and vibrant. Her lips were bright red, and her silky skin glowed with youth. I was enamored with her while everyone else was still desperately on his or her guard. So, like any impertinent young child, I spoke up.

"Excuse me for asking, but we were led to believe you were killed some time ago."

"Ah, yes…I began the story myself," she recited. How many times might she have told this story? "As you seem to know, I was born not long before the uprisings began. I despised fighting and wanted no part in it. I fabricated my death and have been hidden in my home in Romania since then."

"Wow, you've been in hiding for 1500 years? By yourself?" I couldn't comfortably converse with her with Jacob leaning over me, so I gently pushed him away. He immediately growled, and I wanted to scold him for being so impolite. Ántonia didn't seem to notice, or maybe she didn't feel the least bit threatened by him.

"Has it been so long? I do not even know my own age. And no, I have not always been alone."

"But why did you fake your death?" I continued in my questioning.

"Is it not obvious? I warned you about my ability."

"Yes, but you could have stopped the uprisings, couldn't you? With all your abilities?"

"You are an intuitive girl, Miss Renesmee." Her voice was filled with interest, and a small smile played across her lips. I seemed to interest everyone I encountered. It was fun when I was young, but now it was just tedious.

"Nessie, please," I corrected her.

"Nessie…" She grinned at the name, something else which also occurred time and time again.

Jacob growled under his breath, and I imitated my mother's cold look in his direction. He didn't move, but he did go silent.

"I could have stopped the uprisings; I have no doubt of it," Ántonia began to explain. "However, it would be too dangerous to let myself gain that sort of status. Absolute control of that nature would probably drive me mad. Besides, my dear, anyone who thinks they can control something as volatile as a vampire, let alone an entire population of vampires, has gone mad himself."

"So you don't think much of the Volturi?"

"Truthfully, I am glad the Italians took the power from my countrymen. However, I do not think such a power should exist."

"I feel that way as well. I don't see how living in fear benefits anyone."

"Such an intuitive girl," she said, sounding pleased with my responses.

I had been so enchanted with Ántonia's story that I didn't notice everyone in the room was staring at me, including Alice, Jasper, and Emmett, who had probably entered the room several minutes ago. Everyone was so afraid of this tiny woman, and here I was having a political discussion with her. I sunk back into my chair an inch and paused to let someone else continue the conversation.

My father decided to speak up with a question I thought more impertinent than anything I had said.

"Ántonia, why did you decide to come out of hiding?"

"When Vlad and Stefan returned from America, I grew curious. I was exceedingly impressed such a standoff could occur without violence. I decided I wanted to meet this family before things changed."

Now that statement could not be left alone.

"What do you mean?" I asked, rejoining the conversation. My curiosity could not be stifled.

"You have begun a revolution, my dear," she announced while holding my attention with her dark eyes. "You cannot even fathom it," her ominous words were said with a tender smile. I wanted to push this further, but my mother interrupted us.

"If you don't mind, I have a question. How is it we could not sense you coming? Even now…" she asked tentatively and with a great deal of distrust in her voice.

"It is one of my abilities. Stealth. It is the only reason I remained undiscovered for so long," she explained with a practical tone in her voice.

"How many abilities do you have?" I asked, perhaps rudely. My mother shot me another look. This time, I ignored _her_.

"Many, my dear," Ántonia replied gently, although it wasn't truly a definitive answer. I sensed this would become a trend with her.

"Ántonia, please, tell us about your life in Romania," Esme said cheerfully. She and Carlisle seemed to have relaxed some, but everyone else remained at strict attention.

The night went long, and it had been one of the most entertaining of my life. Ántonia had been in hiding for 1500 years, and still she had hundreds of stories and legends to tell. She was incredibly well read, and although she didn't know much about current events, she knew her history of supernatural creatures quite well. She claimed to have known werewolves, witches, warlocks, and mermaids, along with thousands of different vampires.

I could have listened to her all night, but around one a.m. my parents excused us. One look from my father told me I wouldn't be allowed to stay longer. Jacob followed us and phased once we were outside and walking toward the house. He certainly would want to know if his pack had sensed Ántonia's arrival at any point. Given the fact he had not relaxed once throughout the entire evening, I knew I would probably hear him sleeping outside my window tonight.

My parents were gravely quiet on our way back to the cottage, while my mind was still buzzing happily.

"Wasn't she incredible?" I asked as I walked a few feet behind them.

My parents gave one another a look but said nothing.

"What a history! She must have started every vampire legend that exists. I wouldn't be surprised if she wrote _Dracula_ and left it on Bram Stoker's doorstep."

"Nessie, please!" my mother interrupted. "We've had enough."

"What's the matter with you guys? She was perfectly nice."

My mother stopped and turned around to obtain my full attention. With her back to me, I hadn't noticed how tense her face was or how irritated my attitude was making her. "Nessie, don't you realize we still know nothing about _why_ she's here? For all we know, she's on some kind of reconnaissance mission for the Romanians. Or worse, she's seen the weakening of the Volturi and is planning to take them down. Something we don't want to get ourselves involved in!"

I let these conclusions sink in. They didn't feel right to me.

"I think you're wrong. She rejected taking control during the uprisings in Romania 1500 years ago, and she made adamantly clear she has never wanted dominion over vampires."

"That's enough for tonight, Nessie," my father said in a gentler tone.

Perhaps I was naïve, or perhaps I was just young, but her skin was too bright and her eyes were too honest to be evil.


	4. I'm Looking for a Sign

**Chapter IV: I'm Looking for a Sign**

When I awoke the next morning it was quiet, as it was nearly every morning. As I predicted, I could hear Jacob's puppy-dog snores outside my window. My parents had made rules about him being in the house at night, but he had found a loophole by being in his wolf form and sleeping outside. Telling Jacob to stay away was an endless and pointless argument; both Jacob and my father were just too stubborn.

As I climbed out of bed and dressed, I thought about my plans for the day; they were same as any other day. Jacob liked to go for runs in the morning; I would usually spend the afternoon with my father and Carlisle and discuss literature or philosophy or art; at dusk I'd go hunting with my uncles or whoever felt like going; then at night everyone would get together in the main house and play games or watch movies; and eventually I'd go to bed. Oh, and I'd probably have to have a driving lesson with Alice at some point today. Impressively, I managed to get dressed without waking Jacob; he must have stayed up all night to warrant being this exhausted. I decided not to wake him and skip our morning run when I departed from my room. Like most mornings, I found my parents sitting in the living room; unlike most mornings, they didn't look particularly happy.

"What's going on?" I asked the two of them.

They couldn't have been more still if they tried, and in truth, they didn't have to try. The stillness was natural for them as vampires. However, when we were alone and did not need to hide ourselves, my parents were very loving people, especially around me. It was when they were quiet that I worried.

"Ántonia has decided to extend her visit in Forks. She would like to spend some more time with us," my father said in an even expression. His face matched the smoothness of his voice.

I was elated. I was certain this mysterious creature would desire to leave as inexplicably as she had arrived.

"She was very impressed with you, Nessie. 'Your forthrightness and your knowledge,' I believe were her exact words," he explained.

"Is she here now?" My day suddenly got very exciting.

"No…she'll be coming back this evening," he replied in his continuing flat tone. He was trying to be emotionless and he was genuinely quite good at it from years and years of practice. His face was perfectly blank, and if he were with any human he would have been successful in his façade. Unfortunately for him, I knew him just as well as any other member of the family, and his calm demeanor told me he was very uncomfortable with the situation. I could only hope he hadn't already made up his mind about it.

"Is it alright if I see her?" I asked with little optimism in my voice.

My parents looked to each other and then at me. They didn't need to be able to read one another's thoughts at this particular parental juncture. They were thinking the exact same thing.

"We would prefer if you didn't, Nessie," my father said gently.

I wasn't surprised. "Are you going to let me plead my case?" I tried to say just as calmly as my father had done. I wasn't quite as skilled as he was. I was more human when it came to displaying my emotions and things would spill out once and a while.

"Renesmee, you don't understand how dangerous this is," my mother said suddenly. It was the first thing she had said all morning. During her human life, my mother had always been an introvert, which happened to translate into a practical character trait for a vampire. Strangely enough, when my father's face was blank I knew there was something to fear; conversely, when my mother failed in hiding her emotions, I knew something was up as well. I didn't enjoy seeing the look on my mother's face; she looked worried and sad. I had not seen her face like that since I was very young. I couldn't let it end at this though. I had to at least try to make them understand.

"You don't understand what a great opportunity this is! We have a chance to learn from the most famous vampire in existence. She has so much to teach and share with us. You can't say you weren't impressed by her."

My mother stood up with her arms across her stomach and interrupted my argument, obviously more emotional than my father. "This isn't about her. It's about you and your safety. We don't know enough about her to trust her." Her voice was overflowing with concern as well as parental exasperation.

I rolled my eyes and looked away from them. I was a little exasperated too.

"Renesmee, please…" my father's smooth and relaxed voice begged.

"Fine," I snapped without allowing him to continue. The room suddenly felt very small. Beads of frustration began to tickle down my neck and settle somewhere in my stomach. It caused me to huff in a stubborn and child-like way, which must have seemed odd coming from an outwardly appearing grown woman. "I'm going for a walk, or do I need a chaperone?"

I thought I heard my parents yell after me – they probably answered "yes" – but I ignored them as I rushed out the front door. My body was wracked with too much anger to do anything else. At the same time, I knew my behavior looked…bad. My parents were probably surprised by it._ I_ was a little surprised by it. I rarely, if ever, argued with my parents. Why was I doing it now?

It didn't take long for Jacob to find me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him fly past as his furry self and within a moment he was walking from behind a tree in his ripped up shorts.

"Hey, you didn't wake me up. I don't like you being gone when I wake up," he said in a chastising tone, which I didn't take seriously.

"Try not going to sleep so late next time," I quipped back.

"I'm sorry, that woman makes me nervous. Having no way of sensing her…it's unsettling." Jacob glanced around the woods as if he would suddenly be able to hear Ántonia coming. When he was satisfied and thoroughly irritated by his ignorance, he brought his attention back to me. "What went on with your parents? They seemed pretty miffed."

"I don't know," I admitted. "They told me I couldn't see Ántonia and I just lost it. I've never yelled at them before," I said while listening to the forest chatter. I was listening for my parents or my relatives. If my extended family heard me fighting with my parents they would probably seek me out. They never liked me to be in any kind of distress or be by myself in outside of the house. Perhaps because Jake had followed me out here, they refrained from sending the search party.

"Maybe you're finally entering your rebellious stage. I'm glad. I was getting tired of your Beaver Cleaver routine," he said with his trademark smile as he tried to pull me out of my bad mood for the second time this week.

Was that all this was? Some kind of latent teenage rebellion? I knew my growth rate was skewed but perhaps my maturity rate was as well.

"Personally, I'm glad you're not going to see that woman again," Jacob muttered as he jumped slightly to grasp and then hang from a tree branch.

I jerked my head up to look at him. "Why?" I asked.

Jacob dropped from the tree and took a few steps towards me. He towered over me as he always had and always would. Then again, nothing about him intimidated me; he was just Jacob. "Because she's too unpredictable, Ness. Alice can't see her future. Your dad can't read her thoughts. It's just too risky. Hopefully she'll leave soon."

I began to feel the same sensation of frustration I had experienced with my parents creep up on me again. It made my neck feel hot and my hands formed into fists. It may have been juvenile, but it was also involuntary.

"I really don't like everyone worrying about me so much. Or treating me like a child," I attempted to say without sounding like a 13-year-old. I wasn't sure if I was successful.

"I'm not trying to treat you like a child," Jacob argued lightly.

"Yes you are! This is how it's been my whole life."

"To be fair, you were a child not too long ago." He smiled again. It made me clench my fists so tightly that my fingernails were making marks on my palms. He wasn't taking this seriously. Then again, we hadn't had many serious conversations between the two of us. He was my playmate and best friend. We played, laughed, and he did silly things simply to make me happy. We had always steered away from the serious, and Jacob was trying to do that now. He was continually trying to soften my moments of anger or doubt; he just couldn't help himself. However, I didn't want to be comforted this time, I wanted to be understood.

"That's not what I mean…it's just…" I stammered. I would have to explain this better. "I want you to trust me now. Trust that I can have a valid point or a right decision."

"I know you're smart, Ness."

I groaned and no longer had any desire to continue this discussion and make him understand.

"Just…let me be…please," I said while holding my hand up in the universal gesture for "stop".

"Fine," he uttered, just as I had minutes ago. His voice wasn't angry like mine had been. Jacob was obviously annoyed, but baffled as well. He froze obediently, and I ran without looking back at him. I could imagine his face. It was probably the same as my parents – confused.

A pang of guilt rang through me for the way I'd treated my parents and now Jacob. As they gave their opinions or _commands_, I just couldn't escape the frustration that bubbled up inside me. I knew all they were doing was expressing concern about my safety, yet the unexpected aggravation boiled up inside of me so suddenly, it was impossible to hold back. What had I demanded of Jacob? Trust that I could make my own decisions – something I didn't seem to have. It was something you naturally earn with time, and granted, not very much time _had_ passed as Jacob had pointed out, but I couldn't help my impatience. I was the age of a child, but I looked like an adult, my mind was that of an adult, yet I was still struggling in the limbo of in-between.

Trees began to look unfamiliar to me so I slowed down. I stopped at the shore of a small, yet picturesque, lake and sat where the water was gently rolling in. I attempted to skip a few stones across the water while I tried to get a hold of my thoughts. They didn't skip more than twice. Jacob could always get them to skip three, four, or even five times. While sitting down, and with a final huff of frustration, I threw a much larger stone I knew had no chance of skipping as hard as I could. It made a beautiful splash and a satisfying _ker-plunk_ as it entered the water. I fully enjoyed the satisfying sound for God-knows-what reason. Even if I weren't thoroughly distracted, I wouldn't have heard her walking behind me, her stealth power concealing her from my senses.

"You are a long way from home, my dear."

I whipped my head around, but I wasn't afraid of what I saw. It was Ántonia cooing to me in her gentle voice. Her ensemble had been reduced by a layer of fabric so her perfect shoulders and slender arms were fully visible. Her pale skin sparkled under the streams of sunlight that filtered through the trees.

"Yes, I…uh…went for a run," I mumbled.

"I told your parents I wanted to speak with you again. They did not approve of the idea."

"I know. Please don't be offended, they just worry about me." Worry, fret, agonize, shield, or any other synonym of that nature.

She sat down next to me. If not for her out-of-date outfit, she'd easily look like an ethereal European model.

"I understand. They have just cause, yet please trust me. I am in control of my powers. I have had them quite a long time," she said with such gentleness I couldn't understand how anyone could distrust her. Maybe I was just too much like my mother; she had been too trustworthy for her own good at one point in her life as well.

"Yes…your life astounds me. There is just so much you've seen. I'm anxious to see the world myself," I said excitedly. I was disappointed in my need for sleep; I'd never be able to hear all her stories with my limited time span of alertness.

"You have a desire to travel?" she asked in a sweet and melodic way.

"Very much so."

"How interesting." Her voice remained melodic with a hint of fascination. How I managed to fascinate such an unbelievable creature, I'd never understand.

It was then that I noticed her eyes were no longer as dark as they had been the previous evening. They were golden now – something I saw often between all of my relatives. It made sense to see on her as well. You can't remain in hiding and kill humans. Even with stealth, the Volturi would see a pattern eventually.

"There was something I didn't get a chance to ask you about last night." If I only had this brief time with her, there was one thing I couldn't let her go without learning more about.

"What was that, my dear?" The fascination was still there.

"You said something about a revolution…one I had started. What did you mean?" I couldn't help gulping as I asked this. My family had put so much energy into keeping me safe and keeping me, well…sheltered. How could I have had such an impact on the vampire world when I did nothing but eat, sleep, and live in quiet, little Forks?

"Let me point out first, my dear, no government can sustain absolute power forever. All governments will fall eventually, even in the vampire kingdom. My own country, Romania, held dominion over vampires for three centuries longer than the Italians before they were challenged. The Italians are now coming to their Waterloo."

"What do I have to do with any of it?" I gulped a second time.

"You obviously must remember your confrontation with the Italians as a child. This particular meeting demonstrated two important details for the vampire world. First, the Italians exhibited their loss of rationale and control. They had already found your family guilty with no proof. We may be bloodthirsty creatures; however, we are innately democratic when it comes to our own kind. Vampires from all over the world discovered their weakness, which in turn destroys fear and raises the courage to fight them." She didn't speak condescendingly, which I appreciated to no end. The situation I had caused, or at least my existence in general had caused, had much further reaching consequences then I had realized when I was young. The system was cracked and, apparently, there were already plans being made in how to chip it away further.

"Secondly," Ántonia continued, "you have revealed something the Italians were even unaware of, the half-species like yourself. Now, if the Italians knew their folktales they would know your kind has existed for as long as vampires have, but they, and everyone else from this modern era, choose to ignore them. Treat them as silly stories for humans." Her voice had a good-humored laugh in it, but it still remained regal, princess-like. "What you should know is every vampire story has some spark of truth to it. Otherwise, how would it have begun in the first place?"

"What does this mean for my family and me?" I managed to ask. I knew very well my parents did not want any kind of involvement with the Volturi or any sort of revolution. Aside from being slight pacifists (at least some of them were) they didn't want to take the risk. I didn't really want them involved in such a thing either.

"It is up to you, my dear." She was being cryptic again, refusing to give up the most important piece of information. She paused to take a prolonged look over the lake, and I took a moment to collect my thoughts.

I couldn't believe what she was telling me. I was the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back. It was a responsibility I was not sure I wanted, but what destiny is ever truly wanted?

"Can I tell you a secret, Ántonia?"

"Of course, my dear." This may have been the first time in my life telling a secret actually meant telling a secret. Normally, anything I said could easily make its way back to my father and ultimately my mother. It's just what happens when you live with someone who can read your mind. But no one was going to touch Ántonia without risking granting her their power. She was safe.

"Two days ago was my birthday and my family asked me to make a wish. I didn't make one because I didn't want them to know what I truly desired. But if I could have made a wish…I would have wished for the only thing I'm not sure I'll ever have…freedom."

"What kind of freedom, my dear?"

"The freedom to make decisions for myself, and to be trusted to make the right one."

"My dear, you are so young. You wish for something so pure and so essential. I have no doubt of your strength. I must tell you, even if my coming was a mistake, I am very glad to have met you. You have lifted my heart, Nessie."

"You've lifted mine too," I responded honestly and I meant it. From an objective point of view, I couldn't say any part of my life had been unhappy. I was loved and cared for and could have asked for anything I wanted. I had more blessings than I could count, and my feelings of annoyance towards my relatives were so ungrateful it was practically sinful. Despite this knowledge, my frustration _was_ occurring, and I didn't think I could will it away even if I did know better.

"Tell me, Nessie, what do you want for your future?"

"I'm not sure." When was I ever sure of anything?

"I believe I have a solution." She stood up and spoke with more authority. Her voice was perfectly dignified and regal. "A change of scenery. Come with me on my journey. I am planning to travel South America, Africa, parts of Europe, even onto India and China."

"Travel? With you? My parents would never approve." My voice sounded young and inexperienced. I'd never been out of Washington and I certainly wasn't going to be allowed to leave Washington with a super-powered vampire.

"Here is your first real life decision being offered to you in plain sight, my dear. I can see my presence is causing your family distress. I will leave the area this evening, but I will stay until seven o'clock should you choose to come with me."

"It's not that simple, Ántonia."

"Nothing ever is. That is the first of many things I can teach you."


	5. Looking at you Leaving

**Chapter V: Looking at you Leaving**

I was pacing around my room over and over again just as my father had been last night. My parents were gone. They went to see Grandpa Charlie. I was supposed to visit him today and get a birthday present, but I had forgotten during my multiple tantrums this morning and my following talk with Ántonia. Just another inconsiderate thing to add to list of inconsiderate things I had done today. I laughed when I imagined my parents explaining to Charlie my very teenager-like behavior. What would he offer as advice? To be honest, I would be interested to hear someone's advice on this because I was at a loss as to how to control myself.

Although I was alone in our cottage, I didn't think for a second I wasn't being watched. My parents never left me alone unless Jacob or one of my relatives was around to look after – or in other words, babysit – me. Luckily for me, with their exceptional sense of hearing and scent they could babysit me from a distance. I was at least grateful for this moment of mental solitude. If not for this fortunate circumstance I wouldn't have been able to think properly otherwise.

Every time I thought about Ántonia's offer, my heart rate jumped. Travel the world? Meet mythical creatures? See worlds I'd only dreamed about? My entire life had existed in this tiny house and I was so excited to escape, it felt like I was going to burst at the seams. I was highly educated, and I knew what other cultures were like. I read constantly, I watched T.V., I had the internet, but none of those things could substitute for an actual experience.

However, with every feeling of joy came an uncomfortable feeling of guilt. I had _never_ made a suggestion to leave home. My parents…_god_…they didn't like me to be out of their sight. I was certain that going to college would have included a contingency that they move with me; maybe even attend alongside me. When imagining the conversation in which I asked them to travel alone, I could also imagine their laughably astonished faces and their immediate and final response: a resounding no. The only way it might be possible that I go anywhere is if my parents insisted they come along. Not to mention Rosalie and Emmett, who would insist on providing protection, and Alice and Jasper, who would want in on the experience. Esme and Carlisle were better about allowing me freedoms from time to time. They even seemed to know me best of everyone, but even they would disapprove of Ántonia's suggestion. I couldn't see any way I would be allowed to go without the family. Leaving would break their hearts, and none of them handled separation well. They all loved me _so_ much. I had practically been the only thing they talked about since I was born. The world they had created for me was the only one I knew, and for nearly all of my existence I had loved it. I could barely think of a time when I had not been happy.

Then there was the other part, a small part I kept hidden, which wasn't happy. It was the part of me, which was repeatedly frustrated and had become unwillingly larger in the past few months. I knew they loved me and I knew they wanted me safe, but at the same time, they were only seeing Renesmee, their miracle child, and they stopped seeing _me_, Nessie, a person who was grown and lived with a desire to know who she was, beyond an extraordinary hybrid. Yes, I may have also been naïve, but all the more reason to leave this sanctuary and experience something new. I weighed the pros and cons heavily, but every comparison came up the same.

After the hundredth lap of my room, I heard a knocking against my window. It was Jacob in his human form.

_Jacob_…

My family was one thing; Jacob was an entirely different story. My family's overprotective connection with me was one I understood. While I understood the mechanics of Jacob's attachment, I did not comprehend the expectations. Reluctantly, I crossed the room and opened the window.

"Hey, do you even use the door anymore?" I asked, trying to sound as natural as possible. Jacob hadn't used the door in a very long time. It annoyed my father _so_ much, which may have been why Jacob did it as often as he did.

"What's the point?" he asked with a smile. "I wanted to say I'm sorry for this morning."

I had been so completely distracted I had forgotten about my fight with Jacob. "Oh, it's fine. I was overreacting," I explained quickly. I couldn't blame Jacob for any confusion on his part about my attitude. I hadn't articulated myself well to anyone aside from Ántonia thus far. It wasn't fair of me to be irritated with him when he didn't know what was going on.

"I want you to know, I do trust you. You're the brightest, sweetest person I know."

"Thank you, Jacob." I grinned at his honesty, and he gave me a half-smile back. He was dressed differently from this morning. He had on one of his "good" shirts, one that didn't have a hole in it yet, and a pair of wrinkle-free jeans. He even had a pair of brown suede tennis shoes on. Although he looked very nice, seeing him this way made me feel uncomfortable – like I was staring directly at a very bad omen in a lovely Jacob package. He bit his lip, effectively stifling his smile, and leaned forward on the sill.

"There was something else I wanted to talk to you about," he said without looking me in the eye.

"What might that be?" I asked, trying to keep my discomfort from slipping into my voice.

"It's about your future plans."

Oh no…

I had to bite my own lip to keep my jaw from dropping. Jacob continued without looking me in the eye, which was a good thing considering the look of terror that was probably on my face. "I know your parents want you to go to school, and while that is a really good option, I want you to consider something else."

"What, Jacob?" I definitely did not hide all my discomfort when I spoke, even in that very short sentence.

"Me," he said quietly as he lifted his eyes to mine.

In that moment, my head may have detached from my body and floated away. The way it would every time I tried to rationally understand our relationship. One thing I did know, what that I did love him. He was a member of my family. He was a brother, a best friend, a protector, and a playmate. As I was growing up, he was everything I ever needed like everyone believed he was supposed to be. However, that was when I was young, when the things I needed were simple and unambiguous. As an adult, if that's what I was, I wasn't always certain of the things I needed. And when you go from age eleven to age sixteen in a single year, things get a little out of whack. I knew I had a profound connection with Jacob – or I at least I knew _he_ had a profound connection with _me_ – but sometimes I felt like my emotions for him had not yet caught up to where a normal 21-year-old's would be. Jacob evidently had emotions that could change as quickly as I did.

"Jacob…I…" I stammered as I tried to find something sensible and sensitive to say. My head was still floating off in space somewhere.

"Now, I know you might not feel the same way about me yet…but you will," he stated confidently. "And you know I can't stand to be away from you, Ness…"

I knew too well.

"Jacob…stop." It hurt me to say it, but he stopped obediently like I knew he would. Through no deliberate action by Jacob, I had been unhappy for a while, and I had kept quiet about it in hopes it would fade away. But it hadn't, not until Ántonia had offered her suggestion for my future. Perhaps my father knew the story of my discontent, but Jacob knew nothing, and he deserved the truth. "I've already decided what I'm going to do, with my immediate future, that is," I said with bizarre confidence.

"What?"

"Okay…" I began with a gulp. My confidence had already evaporated. "I'm going to travel," I said with the happiest inflection I could manage under Jacob's disappointed expression.

Jacob's disappointment remained, but he feigned some enthusiasm. "Wow, I didn't know your parents would be up for that. It's cool though, see the world and everything," he said grimly, like he was reciting a bad travel brochure.

"I'm not going with my parents," I said flatly.

"Who then? Alice?"

I shook my head. I could feel the guilt permeating my face already. "Ántonia asked me to join her on her travels. She's going to South America and Africa, into Europe and then onto India and China…" I kept talking only because I feared Jacob's response. His response, for lack of a better word, _sucked_.

"WHAT?! YOU ARE NOT GOING ANYWHERE WITH THAT BLOODSUCKING FREAK!" he roared at me.

"Jacob! You said you trusted me! This is what I want!" the immature Nessie roared back.

"It doesn't even matter because none of us are going to let you go!" he yelled. His face was absolutely menacing, but instead of striking fear in me, it spurred my anger. The once small bubble of frustration had suddenly erupted within me. It was impossible to ignore and I was glad for it. I couldn't do this without it.

"You can't stop me. You don't control my life," I said in a more assured tone, and for the first time in my life, I looked, spoke, and felt like an adult all at the same time.

"We'll see about that!" Jacob snapped in response. Within half a second, he had phased into his wolf form and took off running in the direction of Charlie's house. I knew I only had a few minutes until my parents would be spinning into the driveway and even less if they skipped the car altogether and started running.

I dove across my bed and pulled a drawer entirely out of my side table – not quite keeping my strength in check. I scrambled to grasp a pen and paper from the pile of junk that had just spilled on my floor. I scribbled something on the pad of paper and left it sitting on my bed. I took a look around my room trying to think of something I would absolutely need on a cross-country trip. I grabbed a framed picture of my parents and me, breaking the frame in my haste, and ripped out the picture. I folded it once and put it in my pocket.

Then I started running like Jacob had, but not towards Grandpa Charlie's. I made my way back to the lake and searched desperately for the tiny woman in black. She was sitting exactly where I had left her this morning, still enjoying the scenic lake.

"Ántonia!" I yelled, running toward her again.

"My goodness, my dear. Are you well?"

"I'm fine…I need to tell you, I want to accept your offer…" I panted. In actuality, I wasn't out of breath. It was more the anxiety of the moment that caused me to pause between my words. However, after a few moments passed I realized my anxiety was completely unjustified. My relatives were faster than I was, and none of them were here, yelling at me to come home immediately. No one from the wolf pack was chasing me down. Surely when they saw or heard Jacob's panic they should have come running. My escape had been…easy. It was easy because even with my confident words about taking control of my life, no would think me selfish enough to act on them in such a drastic way. I had never done anything like that. No one realized how trapped I felt. No one thought my life to be a prison that I needed to escape. No one would have believed me capable of any of this. They didn't chase me because they never would have predicted I would run. Somehow, I had actually managed to keep a secret from them, or maybe they only saw what they wanted to see.

"_O împrejurare extraordinară!_ Wonderful, my dear," Ántonia cooed while she stood up and clapped her hands together.

"I should ask you, is it alright if my parents highly disapprove of it?" Which they most certainly would.

"Do you approve?"

"Yes."

"Then I am content. Follow me, please." She ran at an unexpectedly fast pace given her size, her outdated dress blowing through the wind in an impressive and elegant way. It only gave me a moment to look back…not enough time to cry…not even enough time to miss them.

* * *

End of Part I


	6. And for These Past few Days

A/N: The reason this story is divided into parts is to highlight a significant shift in the storyline. Usually, a sizeable amount of time has passed from one part to the next. At this point in the story, we find Nessie eleven months after she has left home. This is not to be confused with the banner, which says this story is Part I of a series. This refers to the number of stories in the series, which will be a total of five.

**Part II—Chapter I: And for these Past Few Days**

It had been an indescribable, life-changing, and miraculous eleven months. I had seen things only a supernatural creature could dream of.

In South America, we visited with Nahuel and his sisters, who were half-vampires like me. It was an exhilarating experience to discuss with others like me the things that were pertinent only to us; such as, drinking blood as opposed to eating human food, the rapid growth, and our strange place between the natural and supernatural world. I wanted to express my frustration with my family's over-protectiveness, but unfortunately, they could not empathize with my situation. They lived in small, hidden villages in Chile, and traveled through the rainforests of South America, living in style not to be described as primitive, but far more simplistic than my own. I lived in the States and had to memorize the philosophies of Kafka and decide whether or not I wanted to go to college. Even with our commonality as hybrids, we were still worlds apart. Nonetheless, living as they did was a freeing experience, as I did not have to think about hiding my nature for a single moment. Plus, hunting a jaguar through the damp forests was a thousand times preferable to driving my Jaguar at home.

In Africa, I met mermaids who lived under Victoria Falls. Ántonia had failed to mention they weren't particularly friendly creatures, nothing like the Disney version. They didn't even have fishtails. Instead, they had all the expected appendages of a human, but their bodies were covered in dark, resilient, shimmering skin - somewhat like scales, but so small it was probably not discernable to the human eye. Their human legs were fitted with small fins along their calves, which could expand and contract at their will. The size of their hands and feet were wildly exaggerated to aide in swimming. It made their proportions look a little off, but they could have passed for human. They did not have a strand of hair on their entire bodies, not even their heads. Every man, woman, and child was bald from birth. Somehow, neither this nor their odd proportions diminished from their beauty. They did not live in the water exclusively, but theoretically, they could have. They were obviously connected with the water and became uncomfortable if they spent a great deal of time away from it.

The only thing that may have subtracted from their beauty would be their harsh personalities. The reason for their unfriendliness was a strained relationship with vampires and an even more distressed relationship with humans. Vampires had been hunting mermaids for sport for centuries, and it was generally believed they were extinct, which was what the mer-people wanted the vampires to think. More recently, humans had been destroying _their_ oceans and _their_ rivers. They always referred to any body of water possessively as their own. I, of course, happened to be both a vampire and a human, and the looks they gave me upon meeting them convinced me to never go swimming outside of an in-ground pool again. Although they were reluctant, Ántonia encouraged them to share their stories, and eventually they even allowed me to swim with them and see their homes. Some of the younger generation was just plain excited to see a living being outside of a fish or his or her own coven. They had to live their lives in hiding just as I did.

In France, I met a female werewolf. She was in her third year of college studying fitness and training and competing as a power-lifter. She had even won a couple championships. She explained during times of the full moon she would run out into the countryside and catch a few sheep or cattle to fulfill her animalistic instincts. Her change was involuntary during the full moon, and she could change at other times, but she chose not to for obvious reasons. Her emotions were not tied into her transformation like it was with the shifters, but she was subject to aging whether she phased or not, unlike the shifters. As far as she knew, she was also not subject to imprinting, which was disappointing to me only because I would have liked to discuss it with someone outside the pack. When I asked her if she harbored any prejudice toward vampires, she shrugged her shoulders and explained vampires had never had a significant impact on her life. That may have only been because the Volturi was unaware of her existence. She was more prejudiced against my nationality as an American than my species.

I learned more in those few short months then I had in my first six years of life. I actually had an opportunity to use the languages I had been studying and tried picking up different dialects on the way. In a way, all the studying I'd done at home had been for naught because vampires and mermaids and werewolves didn't exactly fit into any of the cultures I had studied. I never knew for certain how Ántonia was able to find all this incredible creatures when they managed to hide from the rest of the world for so long. Maybe it was all a result of her age. She was the oldest, how could she not know everyone? Then again, there was always the possibility of something more when it came to Ántonia.

Fortunately, Ántonia was a perfect traveling companion. She had a great deal to share with me, and I was always willing and excited to learn more. Even though my family had seen her as a threat, I knew her soul was truly gentle. She made sure to warn any vampire we were meeting not to use their special talents on her to avoid stealing them. She explained that her own ability, the power to absorb, always left her craving more, yet she did everything she could to avoid fulfilling that compulsion. Ántonia had self-control cornered as well as Carlisle, if not better. She was constantly gaining information about the potential backlash against the Volturi, but not in a plan to personally overthrow them. She had been a princess before she was changed and was genuinely interested in what came of her species. She was a diplomat through and through.

It took her a while to get used to my need for sleep. Quite a few times she thought I had fallen over dead when I fell asleep on a train, but she never lost her patience.

I knew my parents hadn't come looking for me. Even if they had, they couldn't have found me if they tried. Ántonia's stealth protected us from any creature, including them. We didn't leave a trail and we never left a scent. We could walk through crowds of people on a sunny day and go unnoticed. It was like walking around in an invisibility cloak, and I no longer wondered how Ántonia had lived so long. The only thing my parents might have gone by was word-of-mouth, but they didn't know most of the people we visited. I also knew for them to go on a search for me would make my situation more dangerous and could possibly alert the Volturi. The last thing the Volturi needed to know was that I was wandering around the globe or that Ántonia was alive. I had created the perfect situation for ensuring my independence.

Yet, almost immediately after leaving home, I realized the impulsiveness of my actions, which most certainly had hurt them. To what degree they would be hurt, I wasn't sure. My note had been a sorry excuse for running away. I only hoped they trusted me enough to know I would come back - happier, and a more complete me.

With Western Europe finished were currently making our way through Eastern Europe. Ántonia suggested we stop in Romania, claiming it to be the birthplace of vampires. She made a lot of similar declarations like that and I never knew which ones to believe. Sometimes she sounded like a tour guide reciting from a book.

After an endless plane ride, an eternally long bus ride, and a cross-country length walk, she announced brightly, "Welcome to my home!" Ántonia's enthusiasm was well deserved. We were standing in front of a structure that could be described best as a castle. Of course she_ would_ live in a castle; she was a vampire princess after all. Yet, this castle looked nothing like anything I had seen in a fairy-tale. It was not extremely tall, perhaps around twenty feet, but it appeared dwarfed by the nearly hundred foot trees surrounding it. It was in the shape of a single cylindrical tower with a very large circumference. The structure was made from heavy, dark stones that seemed impossible for any man to move in this dense of a forest. Overgrowth covered any indication of a path or clearing where a human could have driven up to it. This building was meant for hiding out. Only someone who knew exactly where they were going could find it. Ántonia led us towards a heavy wooden door peeking from under the ivy. It was not locked. A locked door would not stop the kinds of creatures one would be attempting to keep out.

The interior wasn't much different from the exterior. The walls were made up of the heavy and intimidating stone, making me feel cold at the sight of them. Ántonia confidently lead the way through the frigid and stifling air. She didn't need oxygen to survive like a human would, so ventilation wasn't a big issue for her. As I followed her, the feel of the castle slowly transformed. Stone walls were replaced by miles of book shelves stacked in a lazy and unorganized fashion. The ebony-colored floor turned to a deep, rich brown that held a hazy reflection of me. We passed several sitting rooms filled with overstuffed furniture colored brown, red, green, and mustard yellow. Although it had been an overcast day outside, stained glass windows caught the light and filled the rooms with sparkles of primary reds, purples, blues, and oranges. I was overtaken by the magic of the seemingly endless library, and the entire building held a comforting old book smell.

I was still staring in awe when Ántonia stopped in a smaller room with a large desk in the middle of it. This room, like every other I had passed through, was covered in books, several of them open and spread sporadically over the furniture.

"Ántonia...this is...breathtaking," I managed to utter.

"It is quite nice, is it not?" she said, sounding more relaxed than I'd ever heard her. She was home.

"I've never seen so many books." There was undoubtedly more books in the Library of Congress, but it was very likely one could find the scrolls of Alexandria in this place.

"I enjoy reading. Keeping the mind alive is what keeps the dust off. A day should never pass in which you do not learn something," she replied, still the professor.

"Yes, Ántonia," I responded, half-listening. I was still being engulfed by the volume of knowledge surrounding me. "What was this castle used for?"

"Exactly what you see before you. It was built for learning and growth."

"Who built it?"

"I did," Ántonia said quite matter-of-factly. "I was tired of hiding out in small homes. At the time, I could not go out in the open because I would be too easily recognized. A disappearing princess was quite a story even in those ancient of days. So I created my own home. It eventually became my sanctuary and perhaps prison...however, it has always been a solace for me." Prison? Huh...even the most powerful vampire in existence lived in a self-made prison. Even the strongest of us were subject to hardships brought on by their abilities. I couldn't help feeling a twinge of guilt. My six years of captivity was nowhere close to hers and I had already managed to grow impatient.

I glanced around the room during the pause in our conversation and looked for hints of Ántonia's hand. Of course, humans could have never moved stones so large nor could they have imagined such a magical sense of proportion and space. In many ways, the placement of the furniture, the windows, the doors, would have never made sense to a human; however, they were flawlessly in tune to vampires. For example, some windows were set low as they would be in a human home, but others were set near the ceiling with very deep sills. A vampire could easily hop up on the sill and take a seat for a better view. There were no bedrooms, no kitchens, and no bathrooms; just room after room filled with dozens of sofas. Then again, the furniture was a mystery in itself. Ántonia didn't have any humans to pretend for, so what was the point to having furniture at all?

"Now, where could he be?" Ántonia asked into the open air.

I was still distracted by the pages and pages of prose before me, but Antonia's strange question awoke me. She was pursing her lips and her eyes tightened as she peered around the room. She was listening for someone.

"Who, Ántonia?" I asked.

"I told you I had a companion in Romania."

"Yes, but you've never told me anything about him." Or her, I didn't actually know. Ántonia was the only person I had ever known who could tell me everything and nothing at the same time. When I had begun traveling with her, I tried stubbornly to coax every detail I could from her. After a few months of this, with little to no results, I gave up and was glad for anything she would tell me, although it did nothing to alleviate my annoyance when she didn't answer my questions.

"Then I will tell you now, my dear impatient one." Antonia picked up a small hammer from her desk and rang an ancient looking bell sitting near the edge of the desk. The room was filled with odd items that described where she had been in the world. There was a cuckoo clock from Bavaria, a Mayan statuette, rice paper fans from China, even a pair of bagpipes sat among the mismatched bric-a-brac. The sound from the bell echoed off the stone walls and flowed into the adjacent rooms. A few seconds later, footsteps were coming from the corridor, and a young man burst through the threshold.

"Ántonia!"

"Sasha!"

His appearance was shocking, but not in a bad way. Since Ántonia had given me no information about her friend in Romania, I had to rely on my imagination. I had anticipated seeing someone like Stefan or Vlad; stocky, powerful men, who looked like they lived during the same time as Ántonia. Instead, this man was physically similar to Ántonia in that they were the perfect example of pure sparkling youth, frozen and unchanging. Of course, anytime I heard Ántonia speak a sense of age would come about her. At the moment, I could only wonder if his personality would match hers. He looked to be in his early twenties. His hair was the perfect tousled length of dark brown, not chocolate-colored like my eyes, more akin to the deep walnut color of Ántonia's desk. His body was beautifully toned, and he wore a stylish pair of dark gray trousers and a long sleeved black shirt. It was funny he and Ántonia could both be wearing black and look so very different. His lips were thin, his nose was perfectly proportioned to his face, there was a slight indication of his cheekbones, and even his ears were perfectly in line. What was strange about him, almost disconcerting, was the color of his eyes. They were _blue_...not black or gold or anything in between...they were a shocking, clear blue. Even more disconcerting, was the only heartbeat I heard was my own, and it was pounding exceedingly fast.

Sasha and Ántonia closed the gap of space between them, but abruptly stopped short of touching one another. They stared into each other's eyes for a moment with delighted happiness pouring from them. When Ántonia said "companion" I had always assumed she meant "companion" in the same sense my aunts and uncles did. They were essentially married and saw one another as lifelong partners. This wasn't the same kind of passionate reunions I had observed between the vampire "companions" I had known thus far.

"How wonderful to see you again!" the young man exclaimed toward his friend. "How empty this place has been without you!"

"Oh, Sasha. I am glad to see you again as well," Ántonia cooed in her gentle way. "Have you kept yourself occupied?"

"_Painfully_," he retorted. "I have read _War and Peace_ three times this month alone."

"How many times has it been now?"

"I lost count long ago. Tell me of your travels!" He sounded genuinely excited. My mind reeled through a mental slideshow of everything we had heard and seen. I would have started with the mermaids. The way they flowed through the water as if they were part of it themselves was spectacular, not even a vampire could have been as graceful. Instead, Ántonia began with someone who happened to be in the room.

"I suppose I should introduce you to my most miraculous find," she gestured towards me and my face must have gone through a movement of realization. Oh yeah, I was miraculous, wasn't I? Ántonia continued, "Sasha, this is _domnişoară _Renesmee." She smiled with a great deal of pride, as if I was a greatest souvenir she had ever come across.

I should have been a little annoyed with her, but I only felt frozen as Sasha walked toward me. He moved slowly for a vampire, but with just as much grace. He grasped my hand, which I hadn't even realized I had moved from my side, and shook it gently.

"Sasha Dimir." His voice was polite, but reverent at the same time. He must have projected his respect for Ántonia onto me.

"Nessie," I murmured.

"Nessie? Are you a _monster_ girl?" His reverence had faded away somewhat with his dig at my name. I could tell it was good-natured.

"I'm not sure. I've been told different things." There was a pause as I stared into his confusing eyes. He was still holding my hand; it was cold. Cold meant vampire, right?

"Nessie is part of the famous Cullen coven, the ones who took on the Italians recently," Ántonia interrupted. Was she still in the room? My mind was far too distracted.

"This is the child?" Sasha asked of Ántonia. He finally let go of my hand as he commented with some amazement, "She does not appear to be a child." His eyes shot over my body and I had to look away. I pretended to glance over the things on Ántonia's desk.

"No, she had already grown up by the time I caught sight of her," Ántonia explained. "It seems to have slowed down though. Rumor has it she will live as long as the rest of us."

"Such a blessing," Sasha said in a courteous manner.

I had heard this conversation so many times, it did not feel awkward being talked about while I was still in the room. What _was_ awkward was how every time I looked in Sasha's direction, my eyes focused on his like a magnet. I had seen some pretty unbelievable things in the past eleven months, some pretty disturbing things even, but I'd never stared in such an embarrassing way. He must have noticed, but even this knowledge did not distract me.

"Sasha is the only other being to have entered this castle, aside from you today, my dear. He has lived with me for - how many years, Sasha?"

"Around 1200 or so. We do not keep track." So he was quite old even by vampire standards. Maybe their relationship was what I had originally envisioned.

"Now, I would like a few moments of peace," Ántonia said unexpectedly. "Sasha, would you mind taking Nessie around the castle? Show her where she might rest her head. She sleeps! Is that not remarkable?"

"Of course, Ántonia. Shall we?" His attention was toward me again and I had to make a conscious effort to not stare. Their whole interaction and the very small conversation they just had confused me.

Tentatively, I followed behind Sasha as he led us from the room. I glanced at Ántonia and noticed she had her back to us as we exited. We walked a few feet before I spoke.

"Is Ántonia alright?" I asked.

"Yes, I believe so. Why?"

"That was just such an abrupt conversation. She didn't even talk about where we've been."

"There will always be time to talk. Ántonia likes to keep to herself and she will speak when she desires."

"I suppose you're right." If there was anything I'd learned about Ántonia, it was that conversations were always under her terms.

The castle was much bigger than it looked from the outside. As this was my second tour, I began to notice the special details of the rooms. Along with books, each room was filled with art I did not recognize despite my extensive art history studies. It was mostly landscapes and portraits done in a masterful style, which would usually not have fit my taste, but these were intensely engaging. I also noticed sculptures on every available horizontal surface. Most were carvings from stone or wood done with such delicate precision and detail it would be seemingly impossible for a clumsy human to have produced it. Sasha was still leading me, and I was glad he had his back to me. My craned neck and open-mouthed staring would have been embarrassing. It also made it easier for me to talk to him.

"Could I ask you a question?"

"Of course," he responded politely.

"I just need some clarification. You and Ántonia...what exactly are the parameters of your relationship?" I asked with barely any propriety.

"We are companions."

Yes, I know, but my definition of companion may be different from yours, so what specifically?"

He abruptly stopped and turned around. It wasn't a quick and rapid movement like my family members would have done. His movements were slow and thoughtful and something I wasn't used to seeing.

"Are you asking if we are mates?"

"I suppose."

Sasha laughed quietly. He kept his mouth closed as he smiled. His smile was quite different from anything I seen as well. Nothing like Jacob's huge and enthusiastic grins. His was small and practically meek. Maybe it was because I had asked such a personal question.

"What?" I asked defensively. It had seemed like a legitimate thing to ask, if not a little impertinent. He didn't seem to take offense to it at least.

"Nothing. Americans tend to jump to such conclusions. Even with all the information, you still do not trust your own eyes. Ántonia is like a guardian to me. She took me in during the uprisings and protected me. I, in turn, offer myself as a ward and servant to her to thank her for her compassion."

"For 1200 years?" I asked in amazement. Surely his debt would be repaid by now.

Sasha didn't answer; instead, he turned and continued walking along at a very slow pace through the maze of leather furniture. It took me quite a few steps to realize his pace wasn't actually slow, it was human. Compared to Jake or even myself he was slow, but if _he_ was a vampire and _I_ was a vampire, why would he bother with such sluggish movements?

Eventually, he paused in front of an impressive wooden door. This was the first time I noticed we had not pushed our way through any doors besides the entrance. Doors would just be obstacles if you were trying to outrun someone.

"This will be your room," he said formally. "It is very comfortable and looks out on the setting Romanian sun."

"Excuse me for asking, does it have a bed?"

"Yes..." He smiled, still meek and gentle. "The only one in the castle." He opened the door and revealed a small, yet luxurious room. It was different from the other study-like rooms we had passed. The bed was large and covered in ivory linens. The sand-colored wooden dressers and wardrobe were of a Scandinavian design and more modern than the other pieces of furniture I had seen. The wind fluttered into the room though an open orange and white stained glass window, sending a chill up my spine. Small dots of light danced across the surface of the bed as they bounced off a small mobile made from mirrors that hung near the window.

"What was this room used for?"

"I am not sure what Ántonia intended it for. Perhaps this very occasion. She has a good sense of the future, but sometimes she is off by a few centuries," Sasha partially clarified. "This very occasion"? Had she anticipated my arrival before she even knew me? No other guest had ever entered the castle, I did need a bed, and preferred to relax on a sofa. Could that have explained the furniture? "I will leave you," Sasha said as I was still looking over the room.

"Wait!" I turned toward him suddenly and found I had spoken much louder than was really necessary. I calmed myself briefly before continuing. "I'm sorry for prying...I just wanted to know. Ántonia can be cryptic sometimes." Or all the time.

"It is fine, _domnişoară _Cullen."

"Nessie, please, _domnul_ Dimir," I corrected him quickly. He was just as quick to correct me.

"Sasha will be fine. Have a pleasant evening."

"Thank you," I said as he closed the door. At least I had managed to remember a bit of the manners my grandmother had taught me. I sat down on the bed, left with nothing but the soft breeze. I wasn't very tired but exhaustion from the long journey could set in any moment. I decided Sasha and Ántonia probably wanted to be able to talk privately without offending me. I settled down on the bed, which was surprisingly comfortable for not being slept on for a thousand years, and drifted to sleep.

The last thing I saw was the color of his eyes.


	7. Looking at you Sleeping

Bella's POV

**Chapter II: Looking at you Sleeping**

_Six months after Nessie left…_

I was lying on my bed on my side, my eyes closed tightly, desperately. This was the first time in my existence as a vampire thus far that I wished I had the ability to sleep. If only I could just be unconscious for a few moments and forget the stress of each passing second. The worry was more painful and debilitating than I could have imagined. How could my mother have let me live with my father? How could my father let me get married as a teenager? Vampires must be prone to _feeling_ emotions more intensely than humans do because this pain was enough to drive one mad.

I felt the bed dip ever so slightly as Edward rested along my side with such gentleness that I could barely feel his touch, or perhaps my mind was so exhausted with worry that my senses had dulled out. Were such things possible for vampires? His hand paused on my waist and moved along my back as if he was trying to soothe me to sleep. Such a touch probably would have taken my breath away during my human days. Unfortunately, my emotions were too burnt out at this point to feel much of anything.

"I don't think I can stand it anymore, Edward," I muttered. My voice sounded empty and fatigued.

"She's not the first 21-year-old to leave home," Edward said calmly. I was glad I wasn't looking at his face as he spoke. I knew he was trying to comfort me, but sometimes, all I wanted to do was vent and _be_ upset, and seeing his perfectly relaxed face made me irrationally angry with him.

"Don't play that card, Edward. This isn't remotely close to the situation of a human family," I snapped.

"You're right," he conceded gently.

It was completely stupid to resent his attempts to comfort me, but I was tired of being comforted. It wasn't helping. Sometimes being cross was more effective. "Why did we let her go with that maniac? The most powerful being on the planet," I spat.

"She could not be with a safer companion." His massage against my back ended. He must have noticed the tension in my muscles was only growing.

"Yeah, if no one discovers Ántonia is alive and targets her or if Ántonia doesn't lose control herself," I nearly shouted. I knew Edward was well aware of this since we'd had this argument over a dozen times now. The first few days after we discovered Nessie had left, when we found out she had really, truly run away from her family, Edward and I had never been so close to tearing each other apart. I didn't like to think back on it. Edward wouldn't leave my side for a moment because he feared I would take off looking for her; he was right to think so. I was ferociously angry with him and my in-laws for stopping me. It was the only time in my life I'd ever be compared to a newborn. It was a while before I was calm and rational again, but at least irrationality gave me some purpose. Understanding the truth just drove me to be…whatever I was now.

He began moving his hand over my back again. His knuckles slowly drew a path down my spine. By forcing my mind to focus on his touch, the time managed to pass a little faster. Lately, I'd taken to counting the minutes and, unfortunately, experienced the loneliness of each and every measured second. It probably did very little to help with my sanity.

Once we stopped talking, I began to regret what I had said. He hadn't come to fight with me and I hated myself for causing any additional discord between us, especially after what happened six months ago. I still loved and needed my husband, and I knew he was afraid that he wasn't doing enough to help me. "I'm sorry," I said as I covered my eyes with my hand.

"I wish there was something I could do to change this, Bella. Do you want me to try to find her?" he asked, determined. I almost wanted to laugh. After practically risking his life to keep me from searching for Nessie, now he offers this service to me with no conditions? The worry must have been breaking him down as well. Then again, he did always second-guess himself. I wanted to believe in the hope he offered, but I knew it was impossible.

"We both know she doesn't want to be found," I said finally. In those first few days, I didn't understand why everyone was preventing me from finding her and why they weren't fiercely fighting beside me. As much they all wanted Nessie safe and home, they realized before I did that Nessie would have absolute protection by staying with Ántonia. She was undetectable, and we never would have been able to track her. Truthfully, our greatest fear wasn't Ántonia, it was the Volturi. Emmett had warned us on her birthday that Renesmee was a miraculous child and there wasn't anything the Volturi, or any vampire for that matter, would desire more than to have her in their possession. As long as she went unnoticed, she was safe. If we traveled, we would risk exposing the truth that she was separated from us and vulnerable. The fact that there had been no word from her or about her was both painful and encouraging.

Edward sighed beside me; some of his frustration was beginning to seep from his troubled mind. He was just as worried as I was, but he found a way to cope much better than I had. Maybe he was pretending for my sake. I didn't have the mental energy to decipher him anymore because I didn't know what the right thing to feel was either. Nessie _was_ an adult, but she was my baby, and God put me on this earth to protect her. Every instinct in my body begged me to find her and know she was safe. I also knew if I tried to find her, I would fail, which caused me to fall into depression again and again.

I let my eyes peek in between my fingers to see her note sitting on my nightstand, crumpled and torn from being read thousands of times. I had it memorized the first time I picked it up off her empty bed, not that there was all that much to memorize.

"Mom, Dad, Jacob. I'm sorry. I know this doesn't make sense. I need to do this. I need to make a decision of my own, on my own. I will be safe. I will make sure of it. Don't worry. I love you. - Nessie

My voice choked against impossible tears. "Why would she do this to us?" I pleaded. "She knows we would do anything for her."

We had told her this hundreds of times, yet how true was it? Whenever I said those words to her, I did mean it, but the words were meant to express how very much I loved her. Every parent says those very words. They're literal, but at the same time, they're not.

"Bella, you know Nessie has always had a small part of her thoughts she's protected from us. I probably could have forced myself into it if I tried, but I thought every little girl deserved some secrets. This desire to be free, to make her own choices, free of expectations and destiny, this is what she was hiding."

I understood what Edward said to me, but I couldn't believe how long this had gone on without us knowing. I was her _mother_. Mind-reading or projecting aside, I was supposed to know these things. I was supposed to be her guide, her mentor. The most important part of her personality, of her person, I had completely missed. Had she tried to tell me? Had I ever pushed her away? I went through every image of my memories of her trying to figure out an explanation, parsing every sentence and action for hidden clues.

"I still want her home, Edward." I wanted it…more than anything, more than my own life.

"I know, Bella, I know." He stopped his soothing movements and wrapped his arms tightly around me. I clenched my eyelids together and tried to relax in the stillness of the two of us. It was as close as I could come to sleep. And like nearly every other moment of stillness, I said another prayer for my daughter.


	8. And I Know that in the Morning

**Chapter III: And I Know that in the Morning **

I awoke happily to the sound of birds chirping. I was glad I had gone to bed early enough to wake up when the rest of Romania was awake; I tended to sleep in when I didn't set an alarm clock. I stretched and got a new, more alert perspective of my room. It was as I remembered – clean and bright with sparkling dots of light moving around the room. This must have been where they kept Sleeping Beauty before the Prince came to wake her up. What I had not noticed the night before was a small painting hanging across from my bed. I rolled over and off the bed and stepped toward the wall to get a better look at it. It was yet another portrait done in an impressionistic style, primarily colored with whites, grays, tans, and blues. The subject was a young woman lying against a pillow with her left hand near her left shoulder and her eyes staring intently at it. I was amazed at how the painting appeared to be candid, as opposed to being stiff and posed like most masterful portraits. Sadly, she looked as though she were on the brink of tears. Her eyes were barely green, but they had been done over with so many layers of dark paint they could also be read as black. I let my mind wonder within the image for a few moments, trying to decide which fairy-tale she belonged to. I never did decide, so I took my attention away from the portrait, got dressed, and headed out my bedroom door.

As I walked though the everlasting corridors, I intentionally took a very slow pace so I could get a closer look at the books which filled up the many shelves - and there were many, _many_ shelves. I did not recognize most of them, but once in a while I would see a poet or a Russian name I knew. There wasn't any sense of proper organization to the countless volumes. Poetry was next to prose, nonfiction was beside fiction, and plays and biographies were interlaced everywhere else. It was kind of refreshing to arrange books in such a manner. Looking through books became more like a treasure hunt.

I continued my perusal through three or four interconnected rooms, glancing at the many sculptures and paintings like a gallery. I was so enraptured I didn't notice my new acquaintance sitting behind me in one of the luxurious leather chairs.

"Do you read much, _domnişoară_ Cullen?" a soft voice asked.

I whipped around a little too quickly and felt myself blush at being discovered. I had made it into the central hub of the castle to which all the halls eventually led. Sasha was there, looking quite relaxed with a thick, worn book in his lap. How long had he been watching me?

"Very much," I managed to mumble. "And call me Nessie, please." He was either very stubborn or he was just a tad too gentlemanly. "I assure you, I do not feel disrespected by you calling me by my first name," I added, wondering if my post-feminism ideals had caught him off-guard.

"I apologize." He bowed his head slightly as he spoke. He was awfully formal; still curiously stuck in a different era. It seemed he would be just as proper and reserved as Ántonia. Too bad. Of course, he may not have spent time with anyone outside of Ántonia in 1200 years so it was only natural their personalities would be similar. I couldn't ignore how he was also equal to her in beauty; his face was timeless and ageless and if not for his personality he probably could have fit into any time period easily. The only thing about him that was different from Ántonia was the way he was dressed. Today he wore dark gray jeans and a fitted navy sweater. I don't know where he picked up a modern fashion sense, but I had to smile because he was still wearing the wrong clothes. It was summer.

"Don't apologize. Just don't call me _domnişoară_. It makes me feel old no matter what language you say it in," I joked. I'd never be considered "old" in the circles of people I ran with.

"And how old are you, Nessie?" This was the first time he actually called me by my preferred name and I noticed him stifle a grin when he said it. Was he laughing at me? That couldn't possibly fit into his stringent code of social interaction, and neither was asking about a woman's age for that matter.

"Like I'll ever tell, when everyone I meet is thousands of years old." Let him mull on that for a while. "Where is Ántonia this morning?"

"In her study," he said as he turned a page in his book.

"Still?" I asked.

"Of course," he said naturally as he glanced back up at me.

"Did she talk your ear off about everything we've seen?" I asked. After all the things we'd experienced she could have talked for days on end, especially with grand storytelling skills like hers.

"No, I have not spoken to her since yesterday evening." He closed his enormous book and set it to the side; then he folded his hands on his lap. Somehow, he managed to appear unpretentious in his prim and proper gesture. His formality wasn't practiced; it was ingrained.

My forehead wrinkled in confusion. Vampires who lived in seclusion did the most peculiar things and they didn't even realize it. I supposed when a person has nothing to compare himself to, a person might develop some eccentric tendencies.

"Is something the matter?" he asked, genuinely interested in the meaning behind my perplexed face.

"No, it's just...weird." That was probably not the most polite way to put it. I continued hastily, "Usually, when a person comes home from a vacation he or she is all excited to tell the story and usually the person he or she is telling is mutually excited to hear about it." They certainly seemed happy to see each other last night. Why would they avoid each other after nearly a year apart?

"When you live in isolation, it does not take long to run out of things to talk about. You learn to spread out your conversations out over time," he explained.

"I guess that makes sense." Such strange creatures. I let my hand glide over the smooth spines of a row of books as I walked toward him. "Have you read all these books?" I asked in amazement. I couldn't fathom retaining so much knowledge. How could there possibly be room for all of it?

"I am not sure," he said as he looked around the room, much like I had been doing. "I may have, but Ántonia is always adding more."

"I haven't read nearly this many; no one in my family perhaps." Carlisle could give most intellectuals a run for their money, but Ántonia and Sasha had a lot of years on him, and they had a lot more free time. Sasha had already mentioned he had to spread out his conversations with Ántonia; obviously reading must have been their preferred method of passing the time. I adamantly enjoyed reading, but I was far too impatient to live the way they did. Just imaging the impending boredom was tremendous.

I leaned against the armrest of a plush mustard-colored sofa only a few feet away from him, and for the first time I noticed how intently he was staring at me, studying me. Emily Post certainly would not have approved of it. Being the freak that I was, I shouldn't have been so bothered by this. People often stared and gasped and even called for my death once in a while, but this was unreal. It wasn't so much that he was staring; it was how it made me feel that was so...new. I'd never felt so self-conscious or irrationally worried there might be something on my face I didn't know about. I couldn't stand the scrutiny and how embarrassed it made me feel, so I immediately stood up again, casually ran my hand across my face just in case there was something there, and walked in front one of the various paintings. "Where did all these paintings come from?" I asked with my back towards him; it was far easier to talk to him this way.

"I painted them," he answered quietly. If I had been facing him I might have been able to tell if he intended to be modest or not.

"Really? They're...amazing." What an uninspired thing to say. It did nothing to showcase all those years of fine art study I had undergone. Why couldn't I have said some were comparable to Degas while Titian himself could have painted the others? Completely different styles, yet to be done by the same person, it was quite a feat.

Now that I thought about it, Sasha kind of looked like the young man standing in Titian's _The Man with the Glove_ - a portrait whose identity had never been completely determined. I'd think more on that later. I put the thought somewhere in the back of my mind and managed to utter, "Who are they portraits of? I see they're all women." It was true. I hadn't put the theme together until just now. Every portrait held a woman, not necessarily a beautiful woman, but someone distinctive nonetheless. I heard the leather groan as Sasha got up slowly from his chair. Within a few seconds he was standing directly beside me to look over the portrait. It took everything I had to not look at him.

"Novels, mostly," he responded. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see he was standing with his hands behind his back - formal, yet again. My eyes darted back to the painting.

"Oh, they're not real people?" Mentally, I smacked myself repeatedly. Unfortunately, "everything I had" also included my ability to speak intelligently.

"No, I do not have models to work from. I am easily inspired by novels and stories. I get pictures in my head as to what they might look like. This one is Ophelia from _Hamlet_." In the portrait was a fiery looking woman, and although quite beautiful, her eyes were crazed and desperate.

"Is this before or after she went mad?" I asked. At least he would know I've read Shakespeare, even if everything else I'd said was idiotic.

"After," he said with a smirk.

"They do make movies of most famous novels, you know."

"I do not care much for films."

I wasn't surprised. Besides, his painting expressed far more passion then Ethan Hawk, Mel Gibson, or Kenneth Branagh's interpretation of _Hamlet_ ever could.

"An outside observer might say you're just obsessed with women," I accused. I slightly regretted my words after I said them. My family, as well as Ántonia, had always encouraged me to speak my mind when discussing things on an intellectual level. Consequently, stupid observations that I should have kept to myself popped out once in a while. Some called it being forthright, some called it being outspoken, but many people thought it was just obnoxious.

"There are worse things to be obsessed with," he said flatly. I unexpectedly laughed at his perfectly deadpanned response. I was pleased that he wasn't offended and even more pleased he had said something so charmingly inappropriate. Caught up in my delight, I forgot my rule about avoiding eye contact and I glanced up at him. I knew it was an absolute mistake right after I had done it. He was looking down at me and immediately I was trapped in his vivid blue eyes – still as clear and confusing as yesterday. I had never felt this flustered, never at such a loss of words, even as I was surrounded by millions of them.

I had also never experienced such an erratic stream of words sputter out of my mouth.

"How...why...are you..."

"I beg your pardon?"

I took a breath and reminded myself how to speak. "Your eyes. How is it you have blue eyes?"

He abruptly pulled himself away from our staring contest and walked back over to the chair he was sitting in previously. He leaned forward with his elbows against his thighs, interlacing his fingers into the universal gesture of prayer. He deliberately ignored my question and abandoned his observation of me. Perhaps I had been too blunt, though it seemed like a simple question. Nearly every person I'd met in my short lifetime asked why I had brown eyes. "I just mean," I began, attempting to recover our momentarily entertaining banter, "I've seen a lot of vampires...and I've never seen one with _not_ black or gold or red eyes."

"Let me ask you monster-girl, have you looked in a mirror lately?" And there it was; that took all of two seconds to get to. I noticed his new nickname for me but I chose to ignore it for the time being.

"I know my eyes are brown but it's because...wait..." I followed the path he just walked and took a seat adjacent to him. I was more interested in figuring out this mystery than being nervous about being near him. "Are you? Could you be? But you couldn't...I don't understand." How very articulate of me. Pretty soon he'd think all Americans were morons.

"You do not know your folklore, Nessie," he said into his lap. His hands were clenched together. He no longer looked relaxed and peaceful like had moments before. I debated whether or not I should push the conversation; my youthful curiosity won out.

"I still don't understand," I repeated. "You're slow like a human, but graceful like a vampire. Your eyes are blue, but your skin is cold, and...and your heart." It had been a long time since his heart had moved, yet I felt uncomfortable speaking about it. Even though I knew a beating heart was not absolute proof of being alive, depending on one's definition of "alive", sometimes having _that _distinct motion and _that_ specific sound come from my chest made me feel separated from the vampire world.

"She has all the information, yet she still does not know the answer." He looked me over quizzically as if what he had said was some kind of clue. What was it with old vampires? They simply refused to give you a straight answer about anything.

"Are you going to tell me or am I going to have to guess?" I snapped. I was getting a little frustrated. Even Ántonia didn't tease me; she just didn't give up information.

"Tell me, Nessie. Are you familiar with Gypsy folklore?" he finally conceded.

I shook my head in honesty. Growing up, I had been taught human stories about vampires were hardly accurate – an attitude Ántonia had been trying to beat out of me the last few months. She wasn't trying to teach me that the stories were true, but that they deserved to be analyzed and understood because they all came from some kind of truth. Everything one needs to know lies in between the lines.

"Well, I should let you know that Gypsies have a long history with supernatural creatures. They were human...and they were also protectors against vampires. They were born with special talents that made them better equipped to fight. They might be clairvoyant and able to see attacks coming, or, they might be especially strong and can physically fight back. Some have protective scents that go undetected by vampires." So, there were werewolves in the Northern Pacific, mermaids in Africa, Gypsies in Eastern Europe, and vampires everywhere else. There was so much magic in the world, how did we ever manage to stay hidden?

"What was your special talent?" I interrupted his speech unintentionally, another product of my comparably bad manners. Surprisingly, he grinned back at me.

"I was not born with a particularly useful gift. I had an uncanny memory, but it did not serve well against fighting vampires. When I was a young man, my brothers and I unfortunately found ourselves in the middle of the Italian uprisings. People disappeared on a daily basis, and only we knew exactly what was causing those disappearances. My brothers felt passionately about fighting them off, but I was reluctant to fight. I may have been a coward, but ultimately I wanted peace. A silly thing to wish for perhaps, and in the end, it did not matter. There were just too many of them at the time, and as you could obviously surmise, we did not stop them. The Italians did not see us as a threat and planned to use us as training for their newborns more than anything else. That is what caught me. What the Italians had failed to mention to this newborn was the gift that is passed onto every Gypsy - our blood. Gypsy blood is fatal to a vampire. The moment he bit me, he had sealed his own fate. However, for me to be sitting here today is something of a miracle."

"What do you mean?" I don't think I'd ever heard anyone describe the transformation from human to vampire as a "miracle". Miracles are acts of God - someone vampires aren't normally associated with.

"When a vampire tastes the blood of a Gypsy, the vampire's death is not instantaneous. It takes a few moments. It is meant to be that way. Usually, the vampire will have drained enough blood to the point where the Gypsy would not stay alive long enough to be turned. Gypsies are not supposed to be vampires." His honesty was astonishingly brave. I wasn't sure if he meant his existence was actually unnatural or if it seemed unnatural because he had become his own enemy.

"But how did you...survive?" Was "survive" the right word? He had come into a life he was never supposed to. A life he probably didn't want. My heart was beating so fast with anticipation for his answer it I could feel it all the way into my throat.

"Newborns are...easily confused," he said, his similarity to Ántonia showing through once again.

My heart dropped into my stomach. For God's sake, that didn't answer the question!

I took a breath and stared in his impossible blue eyes. He seemed a little wary. Apparently, I'd pushed him to his limit. He must not have relived his history in a long while. Even though Sasha had shared a great deal of information with me, he explained it all quite objectively, and he didn't tell me how he felt about any of it. I didn't know if he was tortured, or depressed, or thrilled to be the creature he was today. Although, if his pensive demeanor was any indication, I could only presume he was ashamed. How could he live with Ántonia and be ashamed? She was more proud of being a vampire than any other on Earth. Yet, not even she could fully understand his circumstances. He was caught between several worlds - not a human, not a Gypsy, not a vampire. Impossible to be defined. I found myself understanding his grief on a level he probably hadn't anticipated. I wasn't supposed to exist either.

A few seconds passed and then a few more. I could hear the ticking of Ántonia's cuckoo clock all the way from her study. Since this room was the center of the castle, the only light came from a large circular skylight in the ceiling. It was faceted with several colors, covering the room in a magical rainbow. Nature must have reacted to the contemplative energy in the room, because the room darkened and the rainbow faded away; a cloud must have passed over the sun. Slowly, Sasha leaned back into his chair and dropped his arms to his sides in a relaxed and uncharacteristically informal manner. His eyes told me he was fatigued, but he spoke with the same level of ceremony.

"My blood has protected me and left me unprotected in various ways. I retained my eye color and my human speed, which leaves me more vulnerable than most vampires. My thirst is also...different."

My curiosity received a huge second wind. "What do you mean?" I asked while internally praying he wouldn't be enigmatic about this detail.

"I feed about once a decade. I do not think I could live with myself if I fed more often." He locked his eyes with mine again, restarting our staring contest. A flutter of something intangible manifested in my stomach and bounced all the way to my fingertips. I commanded myself not to look away. I _would_ get used to this. His eyes were simply an oddity. Now that I understood their origin my reaction would change, right?

"Wow...that is incredible...but, you know, I don't feed on humans at all. I go vegetarian so to speak. I feed from animals." Ántonia even fed from animals. I didn't understand why he wouldn't.

"I tried that myself once, but it increased my thirst worse than before. Sort of like an appetizer, forgive the expression. I regret my actions, but I prefer to take as few lives as possible." His face became worried as he looked at me, waiting for me to be suddenly disgusted. How could I be? He couldn't help what he was. Truthfully, I was astonished. Imagine only needing to feed once every ten years? And the rest of the time being able to live without temptation or hunger? It must have been a freeing existence compared to that of the average vampire. Then again, most vampires saw their victims as sustenance, paying no attention to the identity of the person they destroyed. Sasha had ten years to think about the life he had previously taken before moving onto the next. This place wasn't just a prison for Ántonia.

"Me too," I assured him. "We're alike in that regard." The life returned to his eyes, as did the quizzical look.

"I have never known a vampire with such an opinion before, other than Ántonia," he murmured. "And I believed her to be unique." He was now the one to be amazed.

"It's how I was raised," I explained casually with a shrug of my shoulders.

We took a pause in our conversation just as Ántonia glided into the room. I couldn't help wondering if she had been waiting in one of the adjacent rooms for such a lull in the conversation.

"What are you two doing sitting around here?" she asked us both. "It is a glorious morning. Sasha, take Nessie out to walk the grounds. I am certain she is anxious to stretch her legs."

"Ántonia, are you sure you don't want some company?" I asked her. While we had been traveling, she loved talking with the people we met, and now she did nothing but hide in her room.

"Please, my dear. I have spent far enough time with you. Acquaint yourself with someone else," she commanded with a flick of her wrist.

I shook my head. For a princess, she was awfully frank. Sasha rolled his eyes as well. It was nice to see he reacted the same way I did to her over-the-top royal declarations. I wouldn't have to be too worried about disrespecting her in front of him.

"Shall we?" he asked as he gestured formally – similar to how I imagined a fairy-tale prince might. I nodded and followed him though the maze.

* * *

A/N: The true identity of the man in _The Man with the Glove _by Titian really is unknown. Check out the website for the Louvre to learn more about it. _  
_


	9. But All his Troubles on his Mind

**Chapter IV: But All his Troubles on his Mind**

_Nine months after Nessie left…_

I sat outside the window I'd snuck into a hundred times. I'd been caught nearly every time. It was always worth it. The small black box danced easily between the knuckles of my fingers.

I heard the faintest sound of footsteps coming around the corner. Vampire footsteps. They're virtually impossible for humans to hear, unless the vampire is doing the whole human charade thing and doesn't care whether or not he's being inconspicuous. It was easy for me to hear the sound; the smell was sure to put my senses on alert as well. These footsteps came slowly, as if the person making the sound was approaching something dangerous. There wasn't much about me that was dangerous anymore.

A familiar pull in the pit of my stomach began to form as the sickly smell filled my head and the sound flooded my ears. It was fueled by adrenaline, instinct, and whatever the hell makes a person want to fight or take flight. Vampires were my natural enemy and my body would always enter this state of readiness to attack, even if my head told me the vampire was my friend. The sound of footsteps stopped. My friend, the vampire, was standing only a few feet from me. The intensity of the pull increased but I was able to push it down. A different ache replaced it.

"She's not here," he said coldly.

"I know." Of course I knew. She had been the only thing I'd thought of for months.

"We do not know when she might return," he said next, not quite as unemotionally as before. He wasn't pleased about the information he was reciting.

"I know," I repeated. I didn't look at him. She looked too much like him.

The last couple of years had brought a great change in the relationship between Edward and me, since Nessie had grown into a young woman. At one time, we were colleagues fighting for the safety of our family; later, I became an enemy once again, the potential suitor stealing the virtue of his daughter. Now…well, it didn't matter what I was to him now. Just a trespasser, maybe?

"I'm afraid to ask…is that…?" Out of the corner of my eye I saw him gesture to the tiny box in my hand. It suddenly felt heavier with the new attention on it.

"Yeah," I responded, half-heartedly.

"You did some job hiding it from me," he admitted. "Although, you've become quite skilled at controlling your thoughts; you could rival Alice. I should thank you for it because there were times I was ready to kill you and I don't think Bella or Nessie would approve."

I barely let the corner of my lip up to acknowledge his joke.

"I know you're worried," he continued, "but I don't think waiting around here will help."

Help what? Help to keep me from going crazy? That ship has sailed, Edward.

"I was going to ask her on her birthday," I said under my breath. I'd imagined the scenario a hundred times. We would find a way to sneak off from the family after her party. Alice had agreed to distract everyone. She was more than happy to do it because she, more than anyone, wanted to know how this would turn out. Plus, I could trust Alice to keep a secret. Nessie and I would take a walk through the woods, hand in hand. Nessie would gripe about the expensive gifts, especially the car, and eventually we'd wander to the meadow. The sun would suddenly appear amongst the clouds, causing her skin to shimmer. Her long hair would flutter in the breeze and I'd tell her how beautiful she was. I'd tell her how much I wanted to be with her, and how excited I was about our future together.

Instead, she sulked through her party, she was distracted during our walk, we never made it to the meadow, and she was in no mood to hear any suggestions about her future.

Edward didn't speak as this vision flashed through my mind. I think he was contemplating losing his daughter already. It had only been six years – barely a moment for an immortal.

"Why didn't you do it?" he asked in a whisper.

"The way it turned out wasn't the image I had in my mind. I guess I lost my nerve. But I thought I'd have another chance." I paused. If only I'd known that would be the last time I'd see her. I'd have done everything differently. "Part of me was scared to ask, but I thought every guy felt that way. She should have said yes. She's supposed to." There were a lot of things that were supposed to happen.

"Now you're not sure?"

I didn't speak. It was the million-dollar question. I was _supposed_ to be with Nessie. That's what imprinting meant; at least, that's what I'd been led to believe. I saw Sam with Emily, Paul with Rachel, Jared with Kim; they were all inseparable. I didn't even know where my imprint was for the last nine months. I could have found her if they'd let me; I know I could have. Right after Nessie disappeared, Bella was the only person on my side, but, like always, her pasty-skinned family sucked her in and prevented her from doing what she really wanted. Then they convinced her that Nessie was safer if we didn't interfere. The pack did the same thing to me. I wasn't really convinced, but I couldn't fight them all.

"I hate to admit this," Edward began, "I suppose it's in every father's right to think they know their daughter better than anyone. She surprised us, Jacob. Bella and me, and the rest of us. We didn't think she would leave. We didn't think she'd be gone this long."

This was the first time this had ever happened – that an imprint would be separated from her wolf for in such an extreme way for such a long period of time. Sam and the others didn't know what to make of it. My part they expected. I reacted violently, I thought about her constantly, it took me days to phase back, and since I had phased back into a human, I hadn't been a wolf once. The pack couldn't stand it; it was too painful to be in my head. And as long as I wasn't going to search for Nessie, there wasn't any point to running off far enough so they couldn't hear my thoughts. But Nessie's part in it, they didn't understand. Why would she leave her best friend who would do virtually anything for her? How could I possibly do what she needed if I didn't even know where she was, if she was even alive? There was another distinct difference between the other pack couples and Nessie and me. They were all _happy_. We all thought Nessie was happy, but obviously, something was wrong. How could I have failed in making her happy?

Edward shuffled his feet awkwardly and even grimaced. He was experiencing the very thoughts that had banished me from my own pack. My head was not a pleasant place to be.

"I didn't think so either," I admitted. "Which makes me realize…there's no reason I should be carrying this thing around anymore." I clenched the box into my fist. I wanted it to disappear. I wanted to go back nine months.

"You don't know that," he said with a hint of confidence. It must have taken a lot for him to say it. He was her father, he was a mind reader, and he most certainly believed himself to be a failure too. If I was being honest, he _was_ a failure. We all were.

"I imprinted on _her_, Edward, she didn't imprint on _me_." She wasn't tied to me the way I was tied to her. What else could all this mean if that wasn't the case? She didn't need me. So here I was. If I wasn't supposed to be with her, then why did it hurt so damn much?

"Jacob…" Edward pleaded. There was nothing left to be said between either of us.

"I'll go." I stood up and shoved the offensive black box in my pocket. I used to get a nervous rush having it there. Now it was heavy with regret and burned my heart with remorse.

"Jacob, wait…come inside. Bella would like to see you," he insisted.

"I won't come by anymore. It's just, sometimes, when I'm here, I feel closer to her, but it doesn't matter anymore." The place still smelled of her, but it was old and faded now. It was just a reminder that she gone, not that she was coming back.

"Please, Jacob."

"See you around." With that, I ran.


	10. This Isn't All my Fault

**Chapter V: This Isn't All my Fault**

I had been in Romania for about a week and a half, and while it wasn't the most supernaturally exciting place I had visited on my trip, it was beautiful and not without its fair share of secrets to uncover. Every day since arriving, Sasha and I wandered the grounds of the great and imposing castle while Ántonia sorted through her trinkets and dozens of new books. That's what she told us she was doing anyway. Why it took her over a week to do such a simple chore, I couldn't say.

The grounds were covered with a dense and breathtaking forest that consumed every acre of earth right up to the walls of the castle. I learned that we were somewhere in the Carpathian Mountains, wedged in Retezat National Park, which was a protected biosphere reserve. The only humans who were likely to end up near Ántonia's castle would be wayward hikers, but it was against the rules to go off the trails so it rarely happened. Also, because it was a reserve, the wolves, bears, lynxes, and deer Ántonia and I would hunt every so often were protected, from humans anyway.

The beauty of our surroundings was staggering. There were endless jaw-dropping peaks, dozens of clear glacial lakes, and waterfall after waterfall. The only thing that was unfortunate about the climate was that this portion of the mountains was as infamous for rain as Forks was. Luckily, we were coming close to the drier part of the year.

Even if it did happen to rain, Sasha made sure to show me everything. I would sit in awe and gape at the incredible wonders of the Earth; he would usually sit and watch me – always with an amused smirk on his face. We kept the pace monstrously slow compared to the walks Jacob and I would take through Forks. Sasha did everything slowly compared to Jacob; however, he also took in every detail. Sometimes his observations made me a little nervous because although he often had a smirk on his face, he rarely explained why. This always left me wondering what he was really thinking. All in all, I truly enjoyed his company. Perhaps the quality I enjoyed most was his objective perspective of my personality and the decisions I had made thus far. Finally, there was someone I could talk with who did not have a weighted expectation of me.

"Tell me about your home, Nessie. How does a group of vampires become a family?" he asked with a great deal of excited curiosity.

It was a beautiful morning, thankfully dry and even a little warm. Sasha had taken note of my apparel and was wearing a couple of layered t-shirts instead of his usual sweaters – not that there was anyone to see us anyway. We were taking another walk throughout the castle's vast backyard. He loved filling our time by asking me about my…well, everything. Every aspect of my life fascinated him, even the parts I thought to be completely dull. As anti-social as Sasha claimed to be, he certainly seemed to enjoy speaking with me. I couldn't help but wonder what we would do when I ran out things to say about myself. I'd only been around a little under seven years; there was only so much to talk about.

"I have only heard of vampires destroying one another when together in one place too long, aside from Ántonia and myself, of course," he added.

"I think it's all about will power. My family wants to _be_ a family more than anything else – more than thirst, more than power, more than the will to survive. We love each other." Listen to me, talking about the importance of family, when I had run away from mine. I couldn't help but grimace at my own words, feeling like a hypocrite. Sasha didn't question me on it. Perhaps Ántonia had never informed him of the events surrounding my great escape.

"And this peace is brought about amicably?" he asked.

"Not always. We've had to explain our lifestyle several times; we've even had to fight for it, although we would prefer not to." _Some_ of us would prefer not to, some didn't care one way or the other. However, nonviolence was the family's "official" position. "And we are prone to temptation. But that's not unlike any family. We just happen to have a lethal vice between all of us."

I flashed him a smile in an attempt to lighten the serious nature of the topic. He ignored my smile and immediately looked away from me, focusing on the thick layer of fallen evergreen needles below us. My smile didn't have the same effect on him as it had on Jacob or the members of my family, much to my exasperation. If there was one thing I had noticed he never wanted to talk about, it was thirst. I didn't even ask when the last time he fed was, as curious as I was. His guilt must have been affecting him on a level I was not yet allowed to enter. I sighed and let the conversation end there.

As we continued along, we came upon a small creek that blocked our path. It would have been easy to jump over, but instead, I walked across a huge fallen tree that connected either side of the creek like a bridge. I posed and moved across it like a world-famous gymnast at the Olympics performing her balance beam routine; however, I did not exhibit any nervousness or the need to check my balance. I did a simple front flip, ending with a pose, awaiting my imaginary score. As I turned back around, I caught Sasha rolling his eyes as he strolled along with his arms folded against his chest. Another difference between Sasha and Jacob: he wasn't the least bit impressed by feats of agility, especially when showing off.

"Very nice, monster-girl," he said unenthusiastically while standing at end of the tree I had just crossed. I grinned at the nickname. My mother would_ hate_ it. I knew I should be offended, so why was I grinning? I tried my best to hide my smile. If he knew I liked the nickname, he'd never stop calling me that. Of course, if I liked it, why would I want him to stop?

"I am surprised there have not been more attacks on your life," he said.

"I've heard my uncles saying that too. In fact, I think Uncle Emmett is a little disappointed about it all. Protecting me all these years has been slightly boring."

"All these years? How old are you?"

This question had come up more than once. I usually changed the subject. He seemed to be obsessed with the topic though, so I finally gave in.

"How old do I look?" I paused to place my hands on my hips and made my most authoritative-looking pose. Just because I was giving in didn't mean I was going to make it easy. Sasha stepped up onto the large fallen tree and walked towards me even slower than normal with his arms still folded and his eyes scanning up and down my body in the most particular and hypnotizing way. I felt a light surge of heat begin to filter through my body, especially in my face. I lifted my chin up as some act of defiance against my body's instinct to blush. I doubt it worked.

"Six years, eleven months, and two weeks…give or take," he said confidently.

My chin fell and I huffed, leaning my weight onto one hip – something an actual six year old might do.

"I have been around a long time," he said with a grin on his lips and an enticing raised eyebrow. "I paint portraits. I've developed skills." _Skills_ _indeed_. All the portrait painting in the world wouldn't train Da Vinci himself on how to tell I was many years younger than I appeared. He must have spoken to Ántonia more than he'd led me to believe.

It shouldn't surprise me. He seemed to find me very interesting and I did sleep at night. I couldn't answer his questions all the time.

"Well, if you knew the whole time, why did you even ask?" I asked, raising my chin back up at him.

"I wanted to be certain."

I glanced up and down his body a few times, hoping he would get the same awkward rush I did when he studied me. I'd never know if he did or not. He had no racing pulse. No embarrassing blush. Just a pair of clear, honest eyes, which, at this moment, were telling me how entertained he was by our little discussion. He was also smiling at me smugly, but not in a mocking way. Always a half-smile, of course; he never smiled fully. It seemed like he never truly allowed himself to be completely happy. He was always guarded; he took his prison with him wherever he went.

"Chronologically, I may only be six, but in every other way I'm around twenty-one or twenty-two," I informed him. I didn't want him to think of me as a child. "My father says my mind is as good as a 65-year-old professor of an Ivy-league University, but it's hard to judge, being that I've never been to school."

"Have you been hidden your whole life?"

I turned back around and began leading our stalled hike. I could hear Sasha dawdling a few paces behind me. "Basically," I said in response to his question. "There was too much risk given my unconventional pedigree. Danger from exposure, from humans, from vampires, from…I don't know what," I said with an exaggerated sigh. I rarely spoke poorly of my parents. Ántonia never would have allowed such disrespect. But when I was with Sasha, I couldn't help feeling more relaxed – at least, when he wasn't making me blush. He wasn't a teacher I needed to constantly be polite with and he wasn't a relative who wanted to keep me sheltered. He was just a friend. A friend I could vent to without hurting anyone else in the process.

"My family always seems to expect the worst." This topic instantly brought back my feelings of frustration and oppression I had tried my best to escape. I let all my annoyance seep into my voice. It felt astoundingly good to let that constrained piece of anger go.

Sasha failed to follow-up with another question like he usually would. The lull in the conversation made me uneasy. I looked over my shoulder to see what his expression was. His attention was on the ground, much like before. Perhaps he didn't appreciate my disrespect either?

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing." he said quickly. "I was just trying to imagine growing twenty years in six. Normally, everything moves so slowly for vampires."

The vampire experience in regards to time varied quite a bit depending on the situation. Sasha saw time as slow-moving and not just because _he_ was slow-moving, but because his life may be unfulfilled. He hadn't told me much about himself, but I feared how tortured his existence may have actually been.

My parents and relatives all agreed time moves by too quickly, as if there could never be enough of it. Then again, they each had a significant other, which seemed to be the crucial difference. The only person Sasha had was Ántonia and she was only a friend. I tried my best to appreciate time, although I struggled with knowing whether it was fast or slow. My rapid change had been natural for me. It was my relatives who needed to figure out how to cope with my change. I was too impatient to wait for them to cope.

"Time is strange, isn't it? I've inherited my mother's impatience – that which she had while she was human." I stopped to pick some wild pink primroses when I suddenly realized there was something very one-sided about this conversation. "How old are _you_?" I practically barked at him. I wanted to be the pursuer of information for once. He knew more than enough about me and I was tired of talking about myself.

He caught up beside me with a few slightly quicker strides. He had his hands in his pockets instead of folded against his chest or behind his back. I liked the informal gesture. It made him less…intimidating. "You are not going to guess?" he asked with both his eyebrows raised this time. Of course, he'd make it difficult. Getting him to talk about himself was like pulling teeth, like pulling vampire teeth, no less.

"Well, Ántonia said she found you during the uprisings, so what, 1500 or so?" I guessed without really thinking about it. I was simply humoring him for a response.

"A bit less than that. Around 1250. Vampires forget the uprisings went on for quite a long time."

"And how old were you when you were changed?"

"Twenty-two. Of that I am certain."

"Do you remember your human life?"

"It was quite different from life now. I believe I was mostly avoiding the Italians, not successfully, but I made the attempt nonetheless." He deadpanned his joke perfectly and usually I would have laughed at his well-timed sarcasm. I just didn't find this subject to be very funny. Nor did I find it funny that he was using humor to distract from telling me the truth. That was something Jacob would do.

"But your life was happy while you were human?" I asked him quietly as I picked off a few of the petals from one of the flowers.

"It was difficult in some ways. My family was disappointed I did not have the strength to fight, but I may have made up for it by giving myself to the cause, so to speak," Sasha joked. I didn't laugh, again. I wasn't angry at Sasha for attempting to ease the tension of the subject matter; however, one's change from human to vampire was something I took very seriously. It was something I'd never experienced personally, but it happened to each of my immediate family members, and it was something I would never truly understand. Just like none of them would ever truly understand what it meant to exist somewhere in the netherworld between a human and a vampire. Throughout my travels, I'd met both vampires who drank human blood and others who did not, and even for the vegetarian vampires they found it is incredibly difficult to hold onto any semblance of humanity. My heart, my blood, my body's heat, and my growth all served as constant reminders that I was human. Yet my strength, my speed, and my gift all proved I was something supernatural. Even the most reformed vampire, like Carlisle or Ántonia, understood that although they may play human, they are not human. They used this knowledge to drive their purpose and created meaning for their existence. No matter which world I tried to place myself in, I would always be different. I would always something else. I had spent the last year attempting to define myself and find a direction, but months had gone by, and the question still frightened me. The change may have been violent and painful, but at least after all is said and done, one would know which side of the line one stood on.

I continued picking the pink petals and let them fall to the ground. Out of the periphery of my eyesight, I could see him draw closer – closer than when we were standing on the log together.

"Nessie?" he asked in a whisper. "I have not disturbed you, have I?"

"No…" I answered hastily while running a hand through my hair and pushing my bangs out of my face. I didn't know how to explain how his words had affected me without sounding completely morbid. How could I possibly accuse him, the man who had lived in a self-inflicted physical and mental prison, of having things easier than I did? "I was thinking about how…jealous I am." I couldn't believe how stupid it sounded when I said it out loud.

"Jealous? Of what?" he asked incredulously.

"I grew up _so_ fast. Impossibly fast. Even my parents, who were only teenagers when they were changed, they still had time to become individuals. I never had that. I wasn't changed, I just…was." Sasha only nodded, having basically no idea how to relate to this problem. So much for making the conversation about him instead of me. "I don't know any other way to exist, obviously, but I can't help feeling like I'm not where I'm supposed to be. I don't fit in anywhere." I didn't bother to look up at him then. The last thing I needed was his eyes or my blush muddling up what I was attempting to explain.

"You are blessed to have escaped such an experience as being changed," he responded gently. "Plus, you have the luxury of a family. How could you feel like an outsider among those who love you?"

"My family does not help," I scoffed immaturely. I backed away a few steps so we had a more socially acceptable amount of personal space between us and slumped down against a small rock formation. Sasha remained standing in his place, his hands now out of his pockets and at his sides in a very awkward position, like he wasn't sure what to do with himself. I would have laughed, but that would have been wildly inappropriate in our very intense conversation.

"Why not?"

"Sometimes I feel…like no one quite gets it." I had to stop myself after that statement. Sasha had read a lot of books. He studied the psyche of women down to the smallest idiosyncrasy and then explored them in his paintings. He was more than familiar with the lament of the young, confused woman. Which literary figure did I sound like to him? Hopefully, not characters like Marianne Dashwood or Lydia Bennet. Both of them were so whiney and irritating. "Listen to me, I sound like the most cliché, angst-ridden, pre-teen of all time. I swear I wasn't brought up to think this way," I tried to convince him.

"No, for you to be cliché, your angst would have to be unjustified. It sounds like more than teenage rebellion to me."

"I suppose that's what you could call my traveling all over the world with Ántonia. Rebellion."

"But you do not see it that way?"

"No…I…I love my family. I've loved my life…there's nothing I truly needed to rebel against. I know they just wanted me safe. Yet, I needed to get away. I needed to clear my head, so I could be sure what I was feeling was what _I_ was feeling and not what someone else was making me feel, or what people expected me to feel."

Sasha stared in confusion at my justifiably confusing sentence.

"My household is complicated," I muttered.

"Evidently," he deadpanned yet again. This time I couldn't stop myself from laughing. His humor was enormously subtle as were most things about him. Truthfully, I did enjoy his sarcasm and hoped he was pleased I could tell when he was sarcastic and when he was being sincere.

"It's just…my family wants time to slow down so they can keep me as long as possible, yet they also know I need to become an adult. I don't see how I can have future when I've barely had a past. As impatient as _I_ am, everyone else has all these enormous expectations of me. I'm being pulled in a dozen different directions and I've made no real decisions of my own. It's…frustrating," I grumbled.

"None of these directions…appeal to you?"

"I suppose they do. They're not terrible suggestions. My parents want me to go to college. They'll follow me there, of course. They'll probably enroll as well. I wouldn't be surprised. My mother's never been to college either. My aunts and uncles want me to train. So I can protect myself, I assume, although I can't see them ever allowing me to actually be in a fight."

Sasha took a few determined steps towards me with his eyebrows pinched together. He must have been processing all the information. Surprisingly, he took a seat next to me on the rock formation. I was impressed with how quickly he had become comfortable with physical proximity. I'd never seen him within two feet of Ántonia. I noticed he was never close enough to touch me, not even accidently. The thoughtful look still covered his face. If he could solve what I had struggled with for the past year in a few seconds, to be honest, I'd probably be really mad. For no reason other than making me feel like an idiot for taking so long to figure out the solution.

"It is not surprising you have not chosen these paths. Your spirit is lost in them," he said quietly.

We hadn't even known each other two weeks and he seemed to know me better than I knew myself. All of the options my family had suggested were feasible, some could have even been enjoyable, but they weren't right. There was something else for me. I just didn't know what it was. How could Sasha, a person who hadn't spoken to anyone in a thousand years, be able to understand me in such a short amount of time?

"Hmmm…I suppose," I answered. "And then there's Jacob…" my words faded away. _Oh God_. Now what had I gotten myself into? I hoped Sasha would ignore what I had just said. It was wishful thinking.

"Jacob? Who is he?" Sasha asked curiously. I hadn't spoken much of friends. I didn't have very many – no one outside of my family or the reservation. I especially hadn't said anything about imprinting werewolves. I needed to speak carefully as I continued.

"Jacob is my…boyfriend. I suppose would be the best answer. Although, that's not quite right. He's not just my best friend; he's not only my boyfriend. He's just this force in my life. We're…connected." It was a vague and befuddled response, to say the least. I wasn't even about to get into the imprinting thing. That would be a different conversation entirely. Happily, Sasha didn't push for a more precise definition. Perhaps his inexperience with personal relationships was finally limiting him.

"And what does he want for you?"

"Jacob? He wants to settle. He would do anything I wanted, but I know that's what he wants most of all."

"You do not feel the same way?"

"I know everyone expects me to be with Jacob," I said flatly.

One would think after eleven months away from home I'd have a better handle on this situation. At least be able to explain it coherently. I still remained at a loss. Part of me wished Sasha could use his magical skills of intuition and tell me what to do. I'd take any advice at this point. Unfortunately, his advice didn't clarify the problem much.

"Your mind must be tired from so much indecision."

"Yes, and what do I do to prove my independence? I run away."

"A bold move, monster-girl."

"Yes. Bold. Bold and stupid," I muttered with a laugh. I stood up, kicking rocks and beech tree leaves with each step. I slid my hands into my own back pockets. In one pocket I felt the ridges of a rumpled and creased photograph. I was hardly ever separated from it. It simultaneously reminded me of what I'd done and what I still needed to do. What I would have to do to make them proud and to make them not hate me for my immaturity.

"Well, you may have found yourself in limbo for now, but a spirit as impatient as yours will not settle in purgatory for long."

"What are you talking about?"

"This place, Ántonia's castle, is a solace for vampires. She meant it to be that way. Time seems to stand still here. In some ways, it can be a blessing as it is for creatures like Ántonia and me. Her power is so great that if she were to remain anywhere else, she would surely come undone. However, for you, Nessie, it will only be a torture device reminding you of what you have not yet found."

How very dramatic. I decided there was a point when one could read too many books. Sasha had passed that point, possibly several centuries ago.

"What if I find what I'm looking for here? Isn't that possible?" I argued.

"That is not possible because you do not even know what you are looking for."

I raised an eyebrow at him in the same way Uncle Emmett would raise his eyebrow at me when I was physically around age nine and discussing Nietzsche with Carlisle – as if to say, "Seriously? Is this what you're teaching a nine-year-old?" Emmett was just as smart as anyone else, he just didn't like to see my youth devoted entirely to study when I could have been playing and having fun. Sasha was so entrenched in his philosophies and prose he was beginning to sound like a fortune cookie.

"You call me a mystery, Sasha. You do nothing but speak in riddles."

"Around the 1000-year mark, you suddenly become quite philosophical."

"Well, stop it. You're twenty-two years old for God's sake! Remember? You should be enjoying your life a little more."

"What would you suggest?" he asked with a nervous grin.

"How about a race?"

"A race? I do not think I can keep up with your pace."

"Come on, I'll go slow for you. I'll only use my human half," I teased. He was still uncertain.

"I do not…" he began.

"God, Sasha! You are such an old man! I'll crack your young self yet, you'll see. First one to the clearing," I announced with the brightest smile I could manage.

Apparently, it must have had a greater effect than the one before it, because Sasha sighed only once, pushed himself off the rock, and took a place beside me. He fluidly crouched down into a ready position. I may have glanced up and down his flexed and bare biceps more than once. He may have been slow, but that didn't mean he was weak or any less graceful than a normal vampire.

I swallowed once and prepared myself to run.

"Ready. Set. Go!" I shouted.

I'd be the one to make his half-smile into a whole one. I was sure of it.


	11. While the Hours Pass so Slow

Edward's POV

**Chapter VI: While the Hours Pass so Slow**

_Eleven months after Nessie left…_

The last few months had been slow and painfully routine. None of us did anything out of the ordinary. Sometimes, it reminded me of the time I less-than-affectionately referred to as "before" – that period of time when I had nothing worth living, dying, surviving, or even existing for.

We studied and read mostly, or went for walks or drives to the ocean. All things Bella and I enjoyed. However, it was all beginning to feel too _normal_. It was normal for us not to see our daughter, it was normal not to talk to her, not to see her sleeping in her bed, not to hear her charming laughter.

The first time I witnessed Jacob's reenactment of his argument with Nessie, the very last words she said to any of us before she left, I laughed. I _laughed_. The Nessie in Jacob's mind looked so irritated and angry at Jacob I couldn't help chuckling at her pursed lips and pinched forehead. She hadn't a tantrum like that since she was a baby. I didn't even think much of how upset Jacob was, thinking it was part of the imprinting. Nessie may have been annoyed with us at the time and she may have been fascinated with Ántonia, but she was smart and thoughtful and she knew the dangers that surrounded her existence, therefore we trusted her. Leave? She wouldn't leave.

She wasn't there when we got back to the cottage, but we wanted to give her time to cool off. An hour passed. Then another hour passed. We went out with Jacob to find her and then we realized…she was gone.

Bella reacted as violently as I would have if I'd had the opportunity. I had to keep calm for her sake and for Nessie's. Even while dealing with Bella, I went through things over and over again in my mind, attempting to find what I had missed. Especially in those days after Ántonia showed up at our door. So far, I'd only reinforced what I already knew. Nessie had always been a curious child, eager to learn and excited by new discoveries. We knew she loved us and she knew we loved her. That's what I'd always heard in her mind, that's what Jasper felt, and it was what Bella knew.

This was where I had failed. I had put so much faith in my sibling's abilities and my own to predict things and see things, I had failed to develop an intuitive connection with my own daughter. I listened to her thoughts, but I did not _hear_ her. I didn't believe that she could have a thought contrary to Bella's or my own. One cannot find what one does not look for. What kind of delusion had I created?

I sat in at the piano with my hands on my lap – a familiar and comfortable pose. I did this often as I waited for inspiration to come, but I did not expect anything to happen today. Nessie had taken to the piano as well as I had and it gave me immense pride to watch her play. It gave me even greater pride to watch her mind as she played. When she performed pieces she knew by heart, she no longer had to think of the sheet music as her fingers utilized muscle memory to play the song. Yet simultaneously, as her fingers moved, her mind would create the most detailed and fluid images that coincided with the feel of the music. When she played Bach, she created imagery of rolling, grassy hills. When she played Beethoven, the pictures were dark and usually incorporated a night sky or a lightning storm. Chopin brought forth flowers – hundreds, thousands of flowers of every color and variety. Joplin was always dancers from some impressionistic painting. Once, I think I saw Bella amongst the dancers. If only she knew her mother's former lack of grace. For some reason, pieces by Rachmaninoff were more abstract and the most difficult to follow. It was as if every thought were an unfinished charcoal sketch being ripped apart and thrown away before it was completed.

It wasn't until after Nessie left I realized it was this practice that made it possible for her to keep things from me. She could think and send messages in words, but mostly she processed her thoughts as images. The ones that caused her fear, or the ones she wished to hide, were always half-formed, only sketched, yet to be filled in with the myriad of colors at her internal disposal. There was no way for me to be able to understand those brief impressions and at the time I didn't try. It seemed if Nessie did not know what those ephemeral breaths of mental charcoal meant there was no way I could have. Were those black and white images to be colored, her thoughts would then be completed and definite and I would see them clearly. This is where I saw concrete beliefs, like how much she loved us, but what was in those gesture drawings of thoughts? The mystery was maddening.

It was unknown to me if Nessie knew she had this ability, but she must have known if I believed her to be unhappy, I would have done everything in my power to change it.

I wanted things to be good so badly. We'd been through too much already in her very short life. I wanted her safe. Instead, I'd driven her away. I still didn't know for certain what had made her so unhappy – if it was a specific act or the accumulation of her entire upbringing. Unfortunately, this brought out my own curiosity, which caused me to speculate as to what the motivation was behind her flight. Was she simply reacting like a spoiled child, or was it something far more damaging? Did she despise the confused nature she was born into? Did she hate us for denying her thirst or her humanity? Did she hate me for the time I wanted to destroy her to save my wife?

I didn't voice these thoughts to anyone else. We all had our own turmoil to bear. I was her father. It was right that these thoughts would be mine.

I heard Bella enter the room, but I didn't move to look at her. Every one of my senses told me she was with me. Her false breathing alerted my ears and her familiar scent filled my head. She wrapped her arms around my neck and leaned her chin over my shoulder. Several silent seconds passed by as I absorbed her warmth and gentle touch. Regrettably, even the passion I had felt for my wife had been dampened since our daughter's disappearance. I still loved her adamantly and completely in a way which fed my every will, but it was impossible to ignore the large part of my heart that was missing.

"What are you doing?" she whispered against my ear. The ease of her question would seem natural and minor to any person listening in on it. Yet, in this new period of normalcy, there was always something layered beneath the things we said, from the mundane to the inspired. We were both living with a wound that had not yet been healed.

"Nothing," I whispered back truthfully. I was better at hiding my emotions than Bella was. I had more practice. I also knew she despised it. I was finally the typical man who didn't let his feelings show, although I never did it to spite her. Her well-being was more important to me than my own. Yet, through all these months I think she'd learned to find the layer where my own misery was hidden. It was never in my voice or my expression; it had always been in my eyes. In the past eleven months my eyes had yet to regain the right brightness of gold.

"You haven't played in a long time. I miss it," she said, breaking the silence.

"I'm sorry. What would you like to hear?" I immediately responded. I hadn't yet lifted my hands to the keys. I'd wait for her to make a request.

"Edward…" she whispered as she hugged my neck a little tighter. I leaned my cheek against her, seeking a comfort we couldn't seem to provide one another. "I'm sorry Edward…you've been the perfect husband. Picking up the pieces when my heart was broken. I'm so sorry I haven't been strong for you."

"I would do anything for you, Bella." I meant it. I always had.

"I know. I love you for it."

I wanted to be a good husband. It brought me so much joy to be able to say I was a husband. As I leaned myself into her I recognized how desperately she wanted to feel she was being a good wife and could provide me with comfort as well.

"I didn't think of her today, not until I sat down at the piano. I went almost an entire day without thinking about her. It's wrong." I managed to keep my voice steady. How much longer would I be able to do such a thing? How much longer could we stand this emptiness?

"I know…" she repeated as she nuzzled her lips against the crook of my neck.

Not thinking about Nessie would be a good sign under some circumstances. It would mean my heart was healing and the pain of losing her would subside soon. However, this would only be ideal if Nessie was dead. She wasn't dead – as far I knew…damn it, that unknown thought alone was enough to break me. If I was forgetting her, what kind of father did that make me? Had I given up on my daughter's return?

Without letting go, without breathing, my wife kissed my neck, then my ear, and then my cheek while murmurring against my skin, "Edward…happy anniversary."

"Happy anniversary, Bella."


	12. Walking Up the Hill Tonight

A/N: If you haven't checked it out yet, go to TLYDF to read a Character Exploration article on Nessie, written by myself and Addicted to Edward. It was fun to write if not a little stressful. Nessie is so complicated.

**Chapter VII: Walking Up the Hill Tonight**

I had been in Romania almost three weeks when Ántonia encouraged us to head further out from the castle. "You two are spending too much time indoors," she stated authoritatively. Her statement made little sense because we spent most of our time hiking through the magical forest outside her hidden castle. Ántonia was impossible to deny of course, so Sasha decided he would take me on a tour of the nearest town and do the human tourist kind of thing. Since most of the touring Ántonia and I had done was visiting different supernatural creatures, doing something dull and human sounded like an interesting change of pace.

The walk took us quite a bit of time, considering how slowly Sasha moved, but eventually we made it to Uricani, a town at the foot of the mountains nearest to Ántonia's castle. It was on the smaller side with a population of just over 10,000 people. Uricani had originally developed as a mining town, but with continual interest in clean, renewable energy over the past few decades, the town was obviously dying. There was a small section of downtown that was clearly trying to appeal to potential tourists. There was a toy store selling handmade wooden trinkets, a few boutiques, a pub, and some nice cafés, but alongside those few brightly colored signs appeared the faded remains of shops that had gone out of business. Everything felt static and aged, as if the real world had left it behind. It was quite a change after all those afternoons spent in the magical forest where everything was fresh and clean and sparkling with wonder. This was reality. It made me wonder why Ántonia suggested we come here. Although, she was so wrapped up in the world of the supernatural, perhaps the plight of humans just didn't register with her.

The one redeemable quality of this crumbling city was the surrounding landscape, which was absolutely beautiful, even through the dusty air left over from abandoned mining shafts. Uricani was bordered by breathtaking mountain peaks, and I found it difficult to tear my eyes away from the perfect white snow that capped the mountains.

"The view is incredible from here, Sasha," I murmured to him over a cup of coffee. We were sitting down at one of the few outdoor cafés, taking advantage of the lack of rain. I felt poorly about not having any other compliment to give the city that was a part of his homeland.

"Yes, cities come and go, but the view never changes," he said with a knowing smile. Again, I was struck by the contradiction between his age and his lack of experience. He lived through so much history, yet he could speak about it as well as I could. We basically had the same upbringing. I was hidden by my family and Sasha was hidden with Ántonia. We learned about things like the Black Plague, WWI, and the Great Depression through the books our teachers had provided us. Well, I also received some personal recollections from my family members, but still, I could only imagine. We weren't lost causes though. I was at least trying to experience something outside the world of Forks, and spending time with me was a huge step for Sasha.

"I think this city is doing more going than coming. Do you come here often?"

"No. Not really. I have not been here in…some time," he answered as he darted his eyes away from mine.

I flinched as he referenced his thirst. It was difficult to imagine someone as sweet and calm as Sasha having the urge to kill anything. It wasn't fair that his lineage prevented him from surviving on animals. He'd only mentioned his regret briefly, but I was certain his guilt ran deep within. What else could have kept him locked away for so many years?

"Oh, I didn't think of that. You're not uncomfortable are you?" There weren't very many people out and about, but I didn't want him to strain himself.

"Uh…no. That is well under control. I am at the six year mark at the moment."

"Oh…" I sipped on my cup of coffee, pretending not to be affected by what he said. I was affected, but not in the way he might have expected. He actually shared something with me! Something personal, something I knew he didn't like to talk about. Six years? Six years without feeding, without the burning sensation of thirst. What if Sasha were to spend time with Uncle Jasper? Maybe Jasper could latch onto Sasha's lack of thirst and then he would no longer have to suffer through the temptation. Of course, Jasper would still have to feed when Sasha did not, but just imagine it – to live without the burning for even a few brief moments would be an incredible relief.

I couldn't share all this with Sasha, not right away. If I wanted to learn more about him, I'd have to be calm about it. Besides, if he did feel guilty, as I believed he did, I didn't want to insinuate that he had things so much easier than the rest of us. I casually took a sip of my coffee and said, "There must be something else you can do, especially with a will like yours."

"I have tried it all," he said with a casual wave of his hand. His smile was gone. Uh oh. My window of opportunity was rapidly closing.

"What about a blood bank?" I offered.

"That would not be an option for me."

"My grandfather is a doctor. Maybe he could help."

"Such an American," he groaned while he rolled his eyes. You'd think that wouldn't be issue with him. America didn't even exist in his day.

"Hey, I'm just trying to help," I said defensively. His eyes fell to the table and his lips were held in a straight line. That was the wrong thing to say. It was wrong of me to over-simplify his situation. We may have had our similarities, but I had no way of knowing what he was going through. I'd never killed anyone. The guilt I had predicted had involuntarily surfaced and my window was now nailed shut. It was made worse because his eyes were so perfectly blue. The sadness made them darken; perhaps there was something supernatural to his eyes after all. He ran his finger over the rim of his own coffee cup several times before speaking. He ordered it for appearances sake; he certainly wasn't going to drink it.

"Sometimes, one cannot ignore their true nature entirely," he breathed. His voice was perfectly calm and steady, but I doubted his composure. I sat as still as I could, lest I break him from his concentration. "I should be grateful that I have not had to face temptation for the greater percentage of my lifetime. The fact is, you and I, we are part of a different world." He lifted his eyes to meet mine and I was so pleased to see the corners of his mouth turned up. The less pain he associated with sharing parts of himself, the better. He recognized there was a connection between the two of us and that I at least had a capacity to understand him. I was a hybrid, he was a Gypsy. We were set apart, even amongst those who were exceptional. We were different. I liked that we were different. I hoped…_he_ liked that we were different too.

My heart suddenly felt more prominent in my chest. I spoke a little louder in some worthless attempt to cover the sound.

"We should start a club. Team Freak."

He shook his head and snickered through his nose. I grinned as I leaned back into my chair holding my coffee cup with both hands. I didn't particularly care for coffee. No matter how weak the blend it still tasted like bitter dirt. Plus, I burned off the caffeine so quickly it didn't have time to have an effect.

It wasn't until I sat back that I noticed we had both been leaning over the table during our conversation, our faces mere inches from one another – not touching, of course. However, if there did happen to be any onlookers on the street, they would naturally think Sasha and I were lovers having a private conversation. I had to use my coffee cup to partially cover my face because after that thought I was grinning like an idiot. Maybe it was because I'd never thought the word "lovers" before while also thinking of myself. I took some sips of my coffee to help in hiding, but I couldn't make myself stop. The black cup of dirt tasted cold, but only because my face was becoming so hot. I hated it when he saw me blush, and as far as he knew, there shouldn't be any reason for it. I braced myself for his smirk when I looked over at him, but miracle of miracles, he was not looking at me. He was staring intently at something behind me. I turned around to see what had captured his attention.

"What? What is it?" I asked. I expected to see my parents coming down the road with the amount of intensity on his face. The only thing I noticed was a young girl, around fifteen or sixteen, who was carrying a basket of flowers and looking through the window of a shoe store. She was very pretty. Could that have garnered his interest? I'd accused him of being obsessed with women once already. As I observed the girl for a few seconds, I had the strange sensation that I recognized her, but I could not place her. I struggled to make the correct synapse light up. "She looks familiar. Who is she?"

"She…is a Gypsy," Sasha answered slowly. I understood his hesitance; he was giving her secret away.

"A relative of yours?" I turned back to face him to try to see a resemblance. I couldn't really see one. The girl had very dark hair and olive skin, but her nose was too small and her chin was too flat to be related to Sasha in some way. My déjà vu was not caused by him.

"I doubt it. Besides, it would be many, many generations later."

"Maybe you could reconnect with them. They know all about vampires anyway, don't they?"

"The Gypsy clans were greatly scattered during the Italian uprisings. Families split up and went into hiding to protect themselves. The traditions have been mostly lost; the stories are used as a tourist ploy for the most part, Transylvania and Dracula and such. They put as much faith in them as the next human." Sasha was still looking over my shoulder at the girl behind me. There was something unreadable in his eyes; it was definitely not a lustful stare, it was something guarded, fearful.

I glanced back again just in time to see the young girl give a great sigh as she left her window shopping and wandered off.

"Do they still have abilities?" If they did, they weren't working very well. There were two vampires right in front of her and she hadn't even noticed. Then again, we were sitting outside in the sunlight and our skin was not giving us away. Another one of those small things vampires tended to be jealous of. It was so much easier for the two of us to be a part of the human world.

"I am not certain. It seems doubtful given the Gypsies have not had a skirmish with vampires in over a thousand years. I would think the Italians would have destroyed the Gypsies if they believed them to be a threat."

"You must miss them." Was that what I saw in his eyes? Grief for the family he once had? It was evident Sasha's unusual vampire characteristics had a purpose. In addition to killing the vampire who changed him, Sasha, while still very beautiful, was less remarkable than a traditional vampire. He would never be able to move in a way that could frighten a human; he would never have bright red eyes which could strike fear in anyone, and most importantly, most of the time he would never have the urge to hurt them. Other than his touch, he could have easily passed for human. He should have been able to go back to his family after his transformation. I didn't know if he ever had, but at this point, it didn't matter. They were lost long ago and now any connection he had to his past had faded away.

"Very much," he admitted quietly, "but less these days." He looked right at me as he said this. I felt my body betray me in a thousand different ways. My muscles of my stomach clenched, my face felt a resurgence of heat, worst of all, my mouth had fallen open and decided without my consent to freeze in place. He, of course, had the ability to sit there like a perfect statue and wait out my response. People who live in seclusion for a thousand years should be more socially inept than he was. It just wasn't fair. Why was I always the one staring like a moron?

After a short eternity, my body came under my control once again, and I cleared my throat and quickly looked away – not without catching a glimpse of that damn smirk. I needed to change the subject.

"Hey, let's go to the cheap tourist shop. I'd love a snow globe or a placemat. Just as long as it's something ridiculous."

He nodded, his smirk still plastered on his face, and followed me to the shop. We joked over the number of silly things you could put a Romanian flag on and be able to sell it for ten euros more. I picked up a shot glass, a music box for Ántonia, and a scarf for Sasha. I also warned him not to wear it until the fall, just in case. He had a wrinkled forehead the entire time I purchased the unnecessary items. He didn't quite get the concept of buying something for fun. Plus, I just wanted to do something to help stimulate the economy. I was pretty sure he kept muttering "Americans" under his breath.

We stopped in a few other shops and started heading back to the castle around four o'clock as everything was closing. I was glad to leave the gray and fading city behind, especially if it meant we were returning to the mountains with their fresh scent and bright colors. Before we walked out of town, I noticed a small movable kiosk on one of the side streets that we had not looked over yet. As I started toward it, I was abruptly pulled back. Sasha had grabbed my arm. _He_ grabbed _my_ arm. He hadn't touched me since we shook hands several weeks ago, not that there was ever any reason for him to touch me, which may have been why I was so shocked by it. His touch was cold, something I was accustomed to, but because it was Sasha, it felt surprisingly different. My mind was a blank. All I could concentrate on was how my heart was beating too fast. Was there something wrong with me? I stared down at his grasp, his fingers reached all the way around my skinny forearm. I would have kept on staring if he hadn't spoken up.

"Nessie, I do not think we should go over there," he said reproachfully.

"Why not?"

"Trust me," he said with a disapproving brow. I suppose I was behaving like a child, but it was hard to listen when people said no. Besides, he was my friend, not my parent. I shook him off and continued toward the cart.

"I just want to see everything there is to see." As I came closer, I quickly learned what Sasha was warning me about. There were a dozen metal crosses hanging from the upper shelves of the cart and the items for sale made up the beginnings of an anti-vampire arsenal. There were intricate glass bottles of holy water, silver handled knives, stakes, silver sticks, and every other ineffective cliché written by Bram Stoker and others. My mouth dropped slightly. A gentle voice brought me back.

"Do you know the tales,_ domnişoară_?" An old, tiny woman was sitting behind the kiosk. Her hair was gray and her dark tan skin was wrinkled from spending too much time in the sun. She was sitting on one of those aluminum lawn chairs that were illegal to manufacture nowadays because they are impossible to recycle. I'd been distracted by the items she was selling, the items intended to be used to kill me, so I didn't even notice her until she spoke up. Her smile was trustworthy and I found myself giving her a smile in return.

"A little," I answered quietly. I was thankful for my brown eyes at the moment. If _she_ knew any of the stories, she'd know oddly colored eyes were a big tip off. None of the items could hurt me; however, it was strange to see them laid out on display.

"I will share a secret with you," the old woman began. "Truthfully, these items are for tourists. They do not offer much in protection." She indicated the weaponry out on the table. Was it even legal to sell knives out on the street?

"So, there are real vampires in Romania? Have you ever seen one?" I kept my tone light and airy despite the sinking feeling in my stomach.

"Of course," the old woman answered quite assuredly. I felt the fake smile on my face lose some of its strength as the woman stared me down. She did not look angry or worried for her own safety. She strained her muscles to push herself out of the chair, opened an intricately carved silver box, and removed a small vile of dark red fluid. She stretched out her arm to hand it to me even though I had not indicated I wanted anything.

"For you. For your safety," she said while stretching her arm out a little further.

I still did not reach for the vile.

"I don't have much money left," I lied, and lifted my bag of purchases to indicate I had already been shopping today.

"Do not worry about money," she replied gently.

I couldn't help thinking everyone in this city should be worried about money. I slowly leaned forward and took the vile from her. I stared at it in my palm and recognized the substance instantly: blood.

"What is it?" I asked innocently.

"_Sânge_. It will protect you."

Before I could speak or move or throw it back at her, I felt Sasha's hands grasp my shoulders – the cold of his hands seeped through the material of my t-shirt. Apparently, he'd had enough of my disobedience.

"Time to go, Nessie." He pulled me with him and my legs managed to obey. I took a last look at the woman whose smiling face had melted into worry. It was a facial expression I recognized from my own mother.

"What was that?" I asked in confusion as we made our way to the outskirts of town. For the first time ever, Sasha was several paces in front of me while I straggled behind him.

"Nothing," Sasha said quite icily. It reminded me of my father when he was really, really angry.

"Was she a Gypsy?" Sasha's silence was enough to answer the question. "I thought you said Gypsies don't believe in vampires anymore."

"Some have managed to keep a grasp on the truth."

"Then what is this? Blood? Gypsy blood?" I gasped, staring at the bottle of poison in my hand. Sasha remained silent. "But why would she give it to me?"

"Why do you think?" he snapped. Sasha had never been short with me before. He teased me from time to time, but he was never rude. He was always the perfect gentleman.

"But I am a vampire…that doesn't make sense," I muttered, "unless she didn't know. But she knew _you_ were a vampire." If I was still walking, it wasn't because my brain was telling my body to move. All I could hear was this breathy sound in my head. Was it coming from me? It must have been. Was that the sound of _my_ breathing? It sounded too labored. I was never out of breath. Not even when I ran alongside my family members. My brain seemed to demand added oxygen as I pieced this disjointed conversation together. "That wasn't the first time she has ever seen you," I spat out in one quick breath because it was all I could manage to do.

"Probably not," he mumbled.

I swallowed so hard it hurt my throat. I was still breathing too loudly. It was deafening in my head. Why was I getting so worked up? I took a swift intake of air and attempted to calm myself. "I guess it would be a dead giveaway when you look exactly the same ten or twenty years later."

Sasha shrugged his shoulders. He said he hadn't been to town in a while. The old gray-haired woman, who knew the stories, who knew vampires never change in appearance, recognized Sasha and believed him to be a predator and me his prey. The wild pounding of my heart joined in with the overwhelming pattern of my breathing. I understood how important anonymity was when one lived in hiding. I had revealed him. What if he…what if they…? My mind spun through the dangerous ramifications my actions may have caused. I held my hand against my temple. I felt unbalanced; my head was out of line with my body. I was getting too much oxygen.

"Oh my God! I'm so sorry!" My voice was of too high a pitch. It sounded unnatural and was only made worse by my breathing that continued to increase in speed. I pressed my hand more firmly against my temple when I had an overpowering sensation that I was spinning. I had to stop walking. "Could this cause any kind of fighting? If any harm comes to you or Ántonia…I would…"

Sasha, who had been walking ahead of me, abruptly stopped and looked back at me. It was one of the quickest moments I'd ever witnessed from him. There was no longer a trace of anger in his eyes. I only read concern there. He slowly moved closer to me, at the pace I knew to be normal for him, until he was well within an arm's length. "Nessie, listen to your heart beating," he said with amazement. Maybe he was amazed I hadn't passed out yet. "Be calm." He raised his hand up, it hung uneasily in the air between us, then dropped back down to his side in a few stuttering movements. What was he trying to do? Touch me? He'd done that twice today. Simply recalling the deep cold relieved the ache in my chest. "Do not worry. Most of the Gypsies do not believe. Offering her blood was probably the only way that woman could protect you."

"I'm sorry I didn't listen," I whispered between my panting. As Sasha looked me over, simultaneously fascinated and unsettled by my emotional episode, I didn't feel the usual irrepressible blush. I felt…caught, as strange of a description as that may sound. During my panic and my out-of-control physical reaction, it was as if I were falling. The world was giving way to my panic and I didn't know how to get back. Somehow, by simply looking at me and telling me to be calm, he caught me. My head was steady. My breathing stilled. I was rooted to my place. In the moment, I couldn't take the time to know what it all meant.

I heard the wind whip through the nearby evergreen trees, so I knew for sure my breathing was normal once again. A rapid course of emotions played across Sasha's face. First, there was relief, probably because I had calmed down. Then, there was sadness, an expression I saw too often on him. Then he tried to smile; he failed, the sadness from the moment before was filtering through, but he was trying.

"You are young. Meant to be impetuous." That was his way of forgiving me.

"Impetuous? Yes. Stupid? Apparently." That was my way of admitting how deeply sorry I was.

"Well, now you have protection against me…and yourself," he said with a smile.

All I could do was shake my head and smile back because…that was our way.

* * *

A/N: Go Team Freak!


	13. I'm Sorry that You Have to See

**Chapter VIII: I'm Sorry that You have to See**

"Okay, so a player comes up to bat—"

"That means it is their turn to hit the ball."

"Yes. They have three chances to hit the ball, unless the pitcher throws a ball—"

"What else would he throw?"

"A strike."

"What is a strike?"

"A strike is when it goes over the plate."

"Should not the player simply wait for strike?"

"Yes, but it's not always that simple."

"Does the pitcher not always throw a ball?"

"Ugh!" I shouted in exasperation. In a continued effort to pick my brain, Sasha had asked about my hobbies and for some idiotic reason I mentioned my family liked to play baseball. This led to a nearly hour-long conversation trying to explain the concept of baseball. It was not going well. Vampires could usually comprehend the simple concepts of human games easily enough, but sports were something Sasha couldn't care less about. Either that or he just liked seeing me riled up when he teased me. While I clenched my teeth, Sasha chuckled softly with a smug smile on his face. It was definitely a three-fourths smile. I was glad to see I'd cracked his shell at least a tiny bit. I wasn't happy that the way to do it was so frustrating for me.

"I am sorry, but I just cannot get my mind around all this," he murmured through his snickering.

"Okay, fine, I'll just show you." I got up swiftly from the couch and moved toward the other side of the room where Sasha was sitting. His face reflected a state of confusion, having no idea what I was about to demonstrate to him. I rested my warm hand against his icy neck, against the place where I should have felt his pulse, and released well-known images to him. I took him to the meadow where Alice displayed her perfect pitching, followed by Emmett smashing the ball several miles away, my father running to retrieve it, and Carlisle catching the ball just as Emmett reached home plate, only to have Esme call him out. I watched Sasha's face as he absorbed the information. His expression changed from confusion to awe. I may have shown him more than he needed to understand, but I was enjoying the unexpected closeness. Why had it taken me so long to realize I could easily be near him or touch him by taking advantage of my ability? The images of my mind could explain things much more clearly than I could.

We hadn't touched since the "incident" in Uricani; that was how I referred to my recent panic attack in my mind. Neither of us had brought it up since it happened two days ago. The event had the strange ability to change everything and nothing between us at the same time. We filled our conversations with questions and answers like usual, but something felt off or maybe just different. I wanted to talk about it, but I didn't know what to say other than to apologize repeatedly. I had revealed his identity to the Gypsies, and envisioning Sasha being hurt because of my actions made me very upset; that much I understood. Of course, this line of thinking only led me to the why. _Why_ was I so upset? Because we were friends and we'd become quite close in the past few weeks? All of my actions could have been explained easily with this logic. But the moment after, the moment when Sasha brought me down from the peaks of my distress…how to explain that?

At the same time that I was traveling through these confusing avenues, there was one other idea that I was obsessing over, which was probably also the reason things felt off for me: _touching_. To never touch was unusual for me. My family was very affectionate, as was Jacob. Holding hands, hugs, or pats on the back were all ways in which we expressed our fondness for one another. Sasha and I weren't family, so I couldn't touch him in the same manner I would my parents or my aunts and uncles. Nor did I have much experience in knowing what was socially acceptable between friends. Sasha would be an even poorer reference on that matter. Also, we were both vampires and it wasn't as if we could accidently touch. Every movement, even Sasha's slow ones, were deliberate. When we were in Uricani, he touched me twice, which meant he could do it; however, both times he had been trying to protect me. They weren't touches of intimacy or even friendliness. I was confused further because I knew he was comfortable with personal space; he'd been well within a foot of me on several occasions. I also knew he enjoyed spending time with me. We were together nearly every hour of the day in which I was conscious.

All this thinking led me to believe that he simply did not want to touch me as he only seemed to do so when it was absolutely necessary. I tried not to take it personally; Sasha didn't touch Ántonia either. However, at the tail end of the "incident" when he was helping me to calm down, he lifted up his hand and indicated that he was about to do something, yet he held back. My mind raced with speculation on what his intended action might have been, which only spurred my unhealthy obsession of getting him to touch me again. It wasn't until now I realized how easily I could touch _him_.

I held my hand against his neck for a few more prolonged and possibly inappropriate seconds. As thrilling as this whole encounter seemed in my mind, it would appear as a rather anticlimactic moment to an outside observer. The touch did not lead to a passionate embrace; no one burst into flames or even received a shock of static electricity. We were both virtually frozen as he absorbed my thoughts and I concentrated on not letting my heart rate get out of control. I wanted him to think of touching as something natural and comforting. If he sensed my physiological functions going haywire I was pretty sure he would avoid touching me indefinitely.

Reluctantly, I pulled my hand away and let it fall at my side. His hand went to the spot where mine was just resting against him. His eyes disconnected from mine and began darting around the floor, searching for something.

"Now do you understand?" I asked. I doubted he would want to talk about baseball anymore.

"I think so…," he answered slowly.

I sat back down on the sofa with my own confident smirk for once. He continued to look amazed. I shamefully enjoyed it. I'd received mixed messages about showing off my abilities from my various mentors. Carlisle and my mother disapproved, my aunts and uncles wanted me to use my abilities whenever possible, and my father fell somewhere in the middle. He wanted to side with my mother, but I knew he felt a surge of pride every time my hand went to touch someone's face to communicate. Ántonia believed it was healthy to practice my abilities, but it was far more important to have a purpose when using them. Helping Sasha to understand baseball was purposeful enough, right?

"Nessie, that was incredible. You never told me you could project your thoughts."

"Just a little trick I know," I said modestly, although I was sure my smirk was cutting through my modesty.

"The images you create are intricate and so beautiful. It is as if you see the world in layers; colors layered on top of contours built upon sketches. Yet, it is not two-dimensional. Everything is moving. Everything is in flux. It is like experiencing a living painting, but more complicated than I can even describe," he stammered.

Words could not express how gleefully happy it made me to hear him speak in incomplete sentences for once.

"It is no wonder you have such affection for the visual arts," he managed to conclude.

I couldn't help smiling shyly at this point. He was still picking out small things about me – things most people didn't see. I'd always been drawn to art, but it wasn't until I was a teenager that I understood it may have been because I perceived the world differently from other people. When most people consider a tree, for example, they see a trunk, branches, and leaves. I saw contours, textures built upon textures, and colors blending seamlessly within an asymmetrical boundary to form a complete and natural masterpiece. Sasha saw the depth within people, even fictional people. It caused me to hope he experienced things the same way I did.

"That's probably true. But it's not a very useful power, right now at least. I was training for a while to project my thoughts without having to physically touch someone but I haven't been able to do it yet."

"Abilities can change with time."

"I hope so. Sometimes I feel like the least powerful member of my family. Useless," I ended with a shrug.

"That cannot be true."

I sighed in response. I didn't feel like getting into the angsty teenage stuff anymore. That portion of my growth felt completed. It wasn't a huge step, but I had no reason to resent my family and I had no place expecting them to understand my frustration when I was never honest with them about it. If there was anything I'd learned after all these months away from home, it was that truth and honesty was vital, despite the very secretive world we lived in.

It was then that I realized there was huge detail I had yet to learn about him.

"Hey, do you have an ability?" I asked suddenly.

He went strangely quiet as his smile was completely wiped clean from his face. Even his eyes darkened a little bit.

"Yes…," he began tentatively, "…but I do not use it."

"What is it?" He must have known I would have to ask.

"Why do you not tell me more about baseball?" He jumped up out of his chair and dashed across the room just short of breaking into a run. "We could probably create some makeshift plates and bats," he said so loudly it sounded horribly awkward. It wasn't a very clever attempt to change the subject. I jumped over the back of the couch and caught him right as he reached the threshold between the central room and one of the hallways.

"Wait, hold on," I said calmly with both my hands held in a halting gesture. "What is your ability?"

"Nessie…," he whispered with a bit of strain.

"Sasha, please? I know I'm an infant compared to you, but I'm not naïve. I've seen people with frightening abilities. I've met them. I've witnessed how it made them in into frightening creatures, but you don't frighten me, Sasha."

"Oh Nessie, you are too charming for you own good," he said, expressionless.

"Please?" I begged. Sasha looked away and toward a random bookcase – his darkened blue eyes scanning over the many titles. His cold body language indicated he was not going to budge on revealing the secret. Pulling teeth, like always. It wasn't just my stubbornness that wouldn't let this go. I needed to know this intimate secret. It was too important a detail to explain how a vampire lives and functions. For all I knew, his insight into my personality or the way he was able to calm me in Uricani could have been done supernaturally. It wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing if it was, but it would have explained a lot. I lowered my eyebrows and felt a rush of determination.

"Can I guess?"

Sasha glanced back at me and said nothing. His subtle hesitation spoke volumes.

"It must be an offensive kind of ability. Something painful? Like Jane's ability?"

"No." Sasha shook his head.

"Manipulate the elements? Can you throw fire?"

"No," he repeated.

I paused and took a moment to properly think it over. Sasha had been in hiding for 1200 years. Some of that time was spent legitimately hiding from the Volturi, yet after their position was established there wasn't any reason for him to remain hidden for so long – none that I knew of. He had said this place, a vampire's purgatory, was soothing for him. Sasha was sensitive creature who loathed hurting anything or anyone. He'd even been a pacifist in his former life. If he never met anyone, talked to anyone, knew anyone, he would also never be able to hurt anyone.

"Um…loss of senses?"

"Warmer."

"Give me another clue," I said, hoping that if I treated this a little like a game it might shake the barrier he put up. My smile immediately faded when Sasha rubbed his hand over his eyes and forehead. He was ultimately…scared. He was truly affected by revealing his secret. I needed to know, not only for curiosity's sake, but because I could tell the truth was hurting him. He paused for one more moment to take a calming breath before he began.

"Sometimes, vampires lose reference of what could truly be horrifying. Because you are so young, you imagine death, famine, torture, pain. And yet, truthfully, the most painful thing is perhaps the simplest."

I stood in paralyzing concentration. I thought it best not to interrupt him.

"There is a reason Ántonia hid me from the Italians. My ability would be paramount for them." Sasha paused, obviously distressed and rethinking this whole conversation. Recognizing this, I realized I would have to at least attempt to quell his distress. Thinking of my parents and the motions they took to comfort one another, I gently grasped one of his hands with both of mine and stroked his knuckles with my thumbs. He stared at the movement of my hands and breathed very slowly. Touching was such a significant thing for him; I couldn't tell if I was making him more or less comfortable. However, even in this tense and pivotal moment, I forgot all my feelings of unease about the "incident." I felt no blush or embarrassment about holding his hand. He was able to rescue me from the desperate mayhem of my mind once before. I wanted to do the same for him.

"Please, Sasha," I begged once more. He continued to stare at my hands. The distraction had to be good for him. Hopefully, it would keep him from talking himself out of sharing the truth with me. He swallowed before he began.

"My power is within the mind. I can make you…or anyone…forget."

I had forgotten, ironically enough, that he mentioned he had an exceptional memory when he was human. I waited for him to complete the thought.

"Forget…what?" I finally asked.

"Anything," he said in a whisper as he looked up from our hands into my eyes. I think he was searching for an inclination of fear in them. I wasn't afraid of him. I don't think I ever could be. "Memories as recent as your last birthday. You would say without a doubt that you were only turning six this year. Or more insidious things like who your parents are or who your family is. I could cause you to forget all the pain you have ever endured or I could use it to cause your loved ones more pain than they could ever imagine."

I took a slight gulp. Admittedly, the situation he was describing was frightening.

"The Volturi. They'd use this to cause covens to turn on each other," I said.

"That is one danger." He paused again and I noticed his voice and expression had changed. He must have realized my fear was not materializing. He sounded nearly skeptical now. "I am fascinated by your mind, Nessie. You cannot even fathom the depth of this ability. What if you were to forget everything? Who you are and the kind of self-control you possess? I could reduce you to the mentality of a newborn – leaving your thirst as your only memory."

"Covens would not only turn on each other, they'd tear each other apart."

"Without a second thought. You now see the advantage for the Italians. They would be able to destroy their enemies without a fight. Without an implication they are even involved. With no proof, evidence, or witnesses to convict them. They could do anything."

I was quiet and let go of his hand. I noticed it clenched into a fist as it drifted to his side. The moment was overwhelming and I needed to take a breath.

"Do you wish I had not told you?" he asked, more pain and fear infused in this sentence than any other. There was something buried underneath the question as well. I identified it as regret even before I gave him an answer.

"No…I'm relieved." I didn't need to think about it. The answer came quickly and I did not doubt its validity.

"Relieved?" The disbelief in his voice was unmistakable.

I didn't think about the next thing I did either. I jumped suddenly, even for a vampire, and wrapped my arms around Sasha's neck. Sasha's body tensed so viciously that he felt unnaturally solid. This much I expected. I would have laughed if the moment weren't so saturated in emotion. His cold body pulled away my heat, but I didn't let go. I waited. And then slowly, _so_ slowly, he rested his arms around my waist. My breathing came a little faster, but it wasn't anything like the panic attack in Uricani. Then I'd felt nothing but terror, now it was exciting and so…new. I kept my eyes shut and spoke into Sasha's shoulder.

"I was afraid you were going to be a taser, or have laser vision, or be something poisonous and lethal. Like I wouldn't be able to see you or touch you." I was rambling and I knew it. And speaking of touching, for God's sake, nearly every part of me was touching him. My stomach, my chest, my hands, my face, my skin…but, he wasn't pushing me away.

"So young," he murmured. "You do not even know what to be afraid of."

It was such an unfair thing to say. Youth was such a relative term. I was less than a decade old; he'd never been out of the country. Our one equality was in the purely surreal nature of our circumstances.

I released him and shook my head – a slight blush coming to my cheeks. Human physiology by damned. "You are nothing to be afraid of. Your soul is gentle and compassionate. You know how to love. You would never hurt someone the way you described," I said confidently, because I _was_ confident. Some vampires have such an issue with self-control, when really, it wasn't ever the power or strength that was in danger of being misused; it was the fear that was truly debilitating. Hopefully, my confidence was helpful to him.

"You are mystery, monster-girl. A baffling mystery," he uttered. He wasn't smiling yet. He was nowhere near being comfortable enough with the situation to allow himself to smile.

"Sasha, how did you become a vampire?" I was completely pushing my luck now.  
"Same way as everyone else." He shrugged.

"You know what I'm asking. You said Gypsies aren't meant to be vampires. Why are _you_ a vampire? Why didn't you die?"

"Nessie…," he groaned exactly as he had moments ago.

"You can tell me things, you know. I've told you pretty much everything to do with me."

"'Pretty much everything'? What am I missing?"

What was he missing? Well, the whole imprinting thing was up in the air at the moment. One step at a time.

"Don't change the subject," I ordered.

"I know you have given much of yourself. It is difficult for me."

"I'm sorry you don't feel like you can trust me, but I'm sure whatever I'm imagining is far worse than it actually is. In fact, we've just proven that."

"I trust you," he breathed. "I…it is…I don't want to frighten you," he blurted out at the end. This stammering wasn't as satisfying as his ramblings after I shared my thoughts with him.

"Frighten me? I'm a vampire, for God's sake. I'm brave. I promise," I assured him confidently. Surely Ántonia had informed him of all my successful encounters with vampires and mermaids that were far scarier than he was. "I'm not going anywhere," I vowed. There wasn't anything that would convince me to leave this very room now.

Sasha took a few steps backwards. Distancing himself seemed like a very bad sign. I was incredibly surprised when he spoke up.

"Can we sit down?"

I nodded and followed behind him so we were both sitting on a large leather sofa. I wondered if sitting was actually a comfort to him or if giving bad news sitting down was more of a psychological comfort. Sasha was leaning both his elbows onto his knees. I sat with my legs tucked underneath me. For a moment, I had a flash of déjà vu of storytelling with Carlisle. The story was never as serious as I assumed this one would be.

"The night I was changed was also the first time I ever used my ability," he said quickly. I could sense how badly he wanted this over with.

"On the newborn that turned you?"

"Yes."

"What happened?"

"It was late in the summer and ungodly hot. Everything felt restless and uncomfortable, it was impossible to sleep. One evening, I left home to take a walk through the woods, although there was a strict mandate to never leave the encampment at night, especially alone. I always enjoyed the forest, the mountains. I felt at home there. So, even walking through the woods with nothing but the light of the moon, it was comforting to me."

I couldn't help the grin that slid onto my face despite Sasha's serious tone. All those walks in the forest we had taken together must have meant a lot to him. He had been sharing more of himself then I even knew. Sasha was staring at the floor as he focused on his words, so he didn't even notice my inappropriate smile.

"Before I could even register what was happening, I was suddenly pinned down. All I could feel was the severe distinction between the heat of the night and iciness of the creature holding me. All I saw was shining teeth before they disappeared into my flesh. Somehow, I found the will to grasp onto my assailant, my weak useless human hands clenched against either side of its head while it drained my body. I knew what was happening to me. I was going to die," his voice broke at the end as he hesitated to continue. I was scared to make any sound, to even breathe. This was the part of the story where something went wrong – something that caused him to be sitting here with me instead of existing in the afterlife.

"Then, I began to see things: the final stone lain around a family well, an embrace with a short but lovely blonde-haired woman, a pink sunset reflected onto a clear lake. A life was flashing before my eyes, but it was not my life. It was…his. I was pulling things away. I was stealing his memories. The ones he would have recalled once his thirst was under control. I watched him as he detached from my throat. His face was indescribable. It was like looking into nothingness. He was a shell. No longer a vampire, no longer a man. What is one when they have no identity, no past? Then the burning started." He hadn't lifted his gaze from the floor once during his entire story.

I didn't know how to respond at first. I was the only person he'd ever admitted this to in over a thousand years. I was the only person, other than Ántonia, who was responsible for his secret. Sadly, there was no relief in his voice, no respite from the guilt. I had felt a great deal of relief when I expressed my frustrations to him. I wished I could have been a greater comfort.

"It was an accident," I mumbled.

"I ripped his mind out," he confessed bitterly. "Yes, I will admit it was accidental, but that only proves the danger I can be. If I am not in control, I risk using my ability. " He was so absolute and convinced. Centuries and centuries of self-loathing and guilt had built this impenetrable shield of conviction. My attacks against it felt feeble.

"He was attacking you, and your blood killed him anyway."

"My blood was something I did not have control over."

"You were protecting yourself, and from the way you described it, it sounds like you didn't even know what you were doing at the time. Besides, that was so long ago. You haven't hurt anyone since."

"I have, Nessie. I have done so much…" his head fell down into his one of his hands.

"Stop," I interrupted. My hand was on his forearm before I could stop it. I also accidently released the image of a red and white hexagon with the word "STOP" printed on it. He stared at my hand through his fingers and chuckled softly through his nose. I pulled my hand away because I needed him to concentrate on my own confession. "You know what? I've hurt people too. I ran away from home. I disobeyed my parents. I disappointed and worried my whole family just because I'm selfish. Don't compare your sins to mine or anyone else's. There is no sin greater than another."

This seemed to calm him or at least stopped him from arguing further. Maybe his sins and my sins weren't comparable in this earthly realm, but my statement was truth. No sin has any greater power to damn you. They are all equal, and most importantly, they are all worthy of forgiveness.

"This is why you don't…" My voice faded away. Touch. It was the reason he didn't touch. His ability passed through touch, just as mine did, and he was afraid of taking my memories away. I couldn't finish the question. It would have been completely out of context and he would have thought I was insane. But he'd already proven himself to me. He'd touched me more than once, with his hands, and my memory was still intact. I was fine. He was one who was suffering.

I placed my feet against the floor and scooted right next him, mimicking his position by leaning my elbows onto my knees as well. The "incident" at Uricani had been significant for me. I'd felt a definite shift between us afterwards, but this conversation was something that would certainly change both of us. I decided I would have to prove my bravery to him. Sasha wasn't one to be pushed, he needed a shove. I moved my right hand and interlaced my fingers with his left. Our hands folded together as if we were both praying. He lifted his head up, his eyebrows lowered in worry. I really wished I could have seen the look on his face when I hugged him. I squeezed his hand gently, assuring him in the gentle exchange that I wasn't afraid. I flashed a vision of the two of us running through the woods, showing him my memory of the happiest I had ever seen him. He closed his eyes as he relived the memory, as I convinced him he wasn't stealing my thoughts. I was sharing them with him. The face began to soften as his fear left him and his body relaxed. Even his hand felt less like stone. It was yet another moment that would have seemed anticlimactic to anyone else. Only the two of us would ever understand the significance of it.

"When was the last time you used your power?"

Sasha opened his eyes, and although he was still visibly shaken, his eyes were sparkling. They were that perfect shade that captivated me the first time I saw him.

"It was some time ago."

"On who?"

"Ántonia."

"Ántonia?" The vampire who knew everything? She would have been my last guess. Then again, it should have been obvious. She was the only person he knew. "What did you make her forget?"

"Two things. You could probably guess the first."

I had to think. What didn't she know?

"Her age," I answered.

He nodded back. "That is why she looks the way she does. Youthful and strong instead of weak like the Italians. Some kind of mind over matter sort of thing."

"What was the other thing?"

"The fact that she now has the ability to make people forget. It is a burden only I wish to have."

"See that…compassion."

He sighed and stared off into the open space. It was lucky one of the vampire traits Sasha maintained was strength, because just then, I felt him squeeze back.


	14. And You'll be Just a Man

**Chapter IX: And You'll be Just a Man**

"I am afraid I have some unfortunate news for you, my dear," Ántonia announced, as regal and ominous as ever.

"Ántonia, what is it?" All three of us were sitting in the central room that I had dubbed the "reading room," as reading was what we did in the room most of the time. I was looking through an ancient book of Russian poetry while Sasha was painting another portrait to add to his extensive oeuvre. This current portrait was small, only about two feet by two and a half feet. The paintings hung up throughout the castle were a much larger scale. I couldn't tell who the subject was just yet, but I saw him reading _Grimm's Fairy Tales_ not too long ago. If I remembered correctly, that would mean it could be Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, Rapunzel, or Snow-White. It could also be the lesser-known Goose Girl, who was a princess whose throne was usurped. The false princess then forced the real princess to watch geese. It also included a talking horse head and kid named Conrad whose hat kept blowing away. Not quite as romantic a story.

"I never intended to spend so much time in Romania. You must be greatly exasperated by my behavior," she declared dramatically, bowing her head to me.

We had been in Romania for a month, while we spent only a few weeks at the other locales we visited. I had not been bored for a moment of it, not even now. Maybe I didn't meet an entire clan of supernatural people, but none of the time I spent here felt wasted.

"On the contrary, I think I've enjoyed Romania most of all," I assured the two European vampires. I peered over my book to take a quick look at both of them. Ántonia had a very proud and validated look on her face. Sasha was keeping his eyes on his canvas and attending to the auburn hair of his muse. He may have meant to be inconspicuous, but he didn't hide the smirk on his lips very well. I wanted to call him out on it so badly – ask him why my appreciation of Romania amused him so. It would be inappropriate in front of Ántonia. She was a mentor to me so I felt I should be somewhat careful of my behavior, so I held back on embarrassing him for the time being.

"This place, I've been so comfortable here. As if I was meant to be here. It feels like home," I confessed. There were parts of Romania that did remind me of my home in Forks. I felt safe, and I had many opportunities to learn, then there was the near-constant rain, and most importantly, I was surrounded by people I knew cared about me. However, I had a fantastic sense of ease here, which I did not feel in Forks, not since I was a small child. I actually felt, more than ever, that I was truly being myself here. My family loved me very much, but they concentrated so much on protecting me that they also sheltered me. They worried about my growth so intensely that they struggled with whether to treat me like a child or an adult. In combination with my stubbornness, it had been too much to take. With Ántonia, I was allowed freedoms I never had at home. I could spend my time as I pleased, I was trusted to protect myself and those around me, and the only expectation she had of me was to respect those around me – the same expectation that should be made of every person.

I couldn't be guaranteed these freedoms when I went back to my parents. I would have to earn their trust back before I could expect them to treat me as an adult. I hoped I would be able to bring back to Forks this open, honest person I had become with Ántonia and Sasha's help.

"This is the homeland of all your vampire ancestors, my dear. Romania calls to us," Ántonia informed me. "I know I promised you we would travel though India and China. However, I fear the Romanian sun may have sapped my adventurous spirit."

"Ántonia, you're homesick. That is nothing to apologize for."

"I feel I cannot leave again so soon. Perhaps we will travel again in the next millennia."

"I would like that. My home is always open to you." Well, _I_ would leave the door open at least. As for the rest of my family, I couldn't say for sure.

"_Mulţumire__ ţie._ However, if you would like to continue the journey we began on I would greatly encourage you."

I glanced over at Sasha; his shiny blue eyes were still frozen on his canvas. His paintbrush was frozen in place as well. Even his mouth was stuck in a hard line. What was he waiting for? My response? I looked back to Ántonia and hoped she hadn't noticed the sharp emotional turn the room had taken.

"I still want to see those places, but I don't think my parents would approve of me traveling alone," I replied honestly. I couldn't do that to my parents. Perhaps a year ago I would have impulsively jumped at the opportunity to be completely on my own, but I now recognized to take such a risk would have been a bad decision that would panic and disappoint my parents were they to find out.

"Of course not, my dear. I would not dream of worrying your parents."

Did she really think my parents weren't worried right now? This woman was off in her own world.

"I would assign Sasha to go along with you. He has never left the country, either. He deserves some time away."

Sasha stood at his easel, paintbrush in hand, precisely like before, but now a look of heavy astonishment appeared on his face. He obviously was unaware of this plan. I almost giggled at his embarrassment. These two were so formal with one another that when they politely argued, it was like watching a play of manners by Oscar Wilde.

"Ántonia, you must not have thought this through," Sasha interrupted while setting his brush down and wiping the paint from his hands. Ántonia just smiled back at him expectantly. She was well prepared for his disagreement, having inevitably encountered his inflexibility many more times than I had.

"I have, very much so, Sasha. You have shown more strength and character than any vampire I have known. You would keep each other safe, you could easily keep yourself inconspicuous, and do not think I have not noticed the friendship you two have developed."

Her eyes darted back and forth between us. It was clear Ántonia had hoped for and partially forced our relationship – making herself scarce for most of the day and sending us off into the forest alone on a daily basis.

I blushed and hid my flushing face behind my book, but not before I caught Sasha awkwardly looking down at the floor. There wasn't really anything to be embarrassed about. We were just friends. The most intimate thing we had done together was hold hands, and that was more about assurance and establishing trust than anything else. Well, it would be, if I didn't factor in my obsession with the idea of touching him, which hadn't been drowned out as much as I expected it would. I had touched him, I understood why it bothered him, yet the thought was still buzzing in my head as I imagined the things I wanted to convince him to do. They were all such small and seemingly inconsequential things, but I couldn't help my desire for them. Touching his cheek to share my thoughts, holding hands as we walked through the woods, gentle tickling or pinching in jest, piggyback rides, running my fingers through his dark hair, wrapping my arms around his waist…or…I felt a second rush of heat on my face.

"My dear Sasha, you have never had a friend other than myself. I would not separate the two of you simply because I do not wish to travel any longer," Ántonia explained objectively.

I covered my mouth to stifle my snickering as Sasha's face grew even more apprehensive. He had a textbook case of agoraphobia, which wasn't anything to laugh at. I just knew convincing him to leave Romania would be near impossible.

"Have you considered if Nessie would even like my company?" he asked Ántonia in a less-than-genteel tone.

There was an interesting question. I'd only spent every day of the past month with him and _now_ he's concerned about whether or not he's being too clingy?

"Of course she would. Now please stop being obstinate and accept my offer," Ántonia stated as her final command. She was a princess; she didn't need logic.

I could tell Sasha was poised to continue the dispute, but I decided to interrupt it instead. "With all due respect, Ántonia, I believe I may be feeling the same homesickness you have." I did miss them, my parents, my grandparents, my aunts and uncles. Of course I missed them. I loved them very much and I hated hurting them. Did I have an excuse for not calling? For not writing? Probably not. I was so angry after I left. I just wanted some peace of mind. Not to mention, I knew my family well. A call or a letter could have been traced. I couldn't give them any reason to look for me; it was too risky for everyone involved.

I tugged the damaged photograph out of my pocket and held it in my fist. The intersecting point of two creases had worn a hole in the center of the photograph where I was posed in between my parents. The hole was very near the center of my chest. The symbolism was not lost on me. Being separated from my family had left a hole in my heart. I couldn't imagine what it had done to my parents. It had been nearly a year since I'd left – almost my birthday once again. I'd done enough hurting. It was time to go home. Maybe the next course of my life wasn't explicitly clear as I'd hoped it would be after running away, but perhaps that was the point. Life, possibly mine in particular, has no clear path, just choices. I had chosen to leave home. Now, I was choosing to go back. I would be honest from now on. I would do things right, starting with rebuilding the relationships I left behind.

"I forget your human impatience, my dear. Of course you will return home. Give my regards to your parents."

I snickered through my nose softly. She'd never admit to an apology because she genuinely believed she was completely in the right to encourage me to leave without talking to my parents about it. Ántonia was lucky she had her stealth and could escape the wrath of my father's awful temper.

"Thank you for everything, Ántonia. You've changed my life."

"Yes, my dear, yes." Ántonia abruptly stood up and sauntered toward a shelf of books, appearing to be done with the conversation. Unable to touch or embrace her because I would risk giving her my ability, I nodded and started planning the note I would leave behind expressing the depth of my thankfulness for the incredible journey.

I pushed myself off the couch and headed toward my bedroom. I could hear Sasha scurrying behind me and whispering sternly in Ántonia's direction, "I will talk to you later."

Well, that wasn't very polite. Even they had their moments of rudeness.

It was a short walk to my bedroom and Sasha had already begun apologizing to me before I even reached the trunk I had been hauling around the world. Ántonia bought it for me in a posh boutique in São Paulo. For some reason, the people there loved the way she dressed. They just thought she was extremely wealthy and eccentric. She had paid for everything while I was with her. Using my own funds was once again a way to trace me. I'd asked her many times where her money came from, but she didn't once tell me. She did have more than a few one-of-a-kind ancient knick-knacks lying around.

"Nessie, do not pay any attention to Ántonia. She only wishes to tease me. However, thank you for sparing my feelings."

"What are you talking about?" I asked as I threw open the huge lid of trunk. Was this going to be too heavy to take on the plane?

"About having me as a traveling companion. The idea of it is understandably…impractical, for lack of a better word."

"Impractical?"

"Yes, I do not know much of the world. I would not be able to offer anything to the experience."

A quick slide show of images flashed through my mind as I imagined taking Sasha on world-wide tour. I would take him to all the places his beloved authors described: the English countryside of Jane Austen or the dark, snowy streets of Leo Tolstoy or the bright, sandy Greek beaches of Homer. I could imagine his face when he saw the Eiffel Tower for the first time or the Taj Mahal or even a proper skyscraper in a city with more than 10,000 people. Everything would be brand new experience for him. To witness such a dramatic moment of enlightenment was something I didn't want to miss. Perhaps this was why Ántonia had been so excited to take me around the world

"Be that as it may, I think it's an excellent idea."

"What? Are you planning on going to India and China?" he asked, his face more incredulous than ever. I loved it when he looked at me that way. There were no words to describe how much I enjoyed surprising someone nearly 200 times my age, even if he was essentially an agoraphobic shut-in.

"Nope," I playfully responded.

"Then where?"

"I told you, I'm going home, and I'm taking you with me." I went to my wardrobe and started pulling clothes off the hangers. I fought the urge to just throw them in the trunk and began folding them properly. The prospect of being at home again in mere hours was beginning to excite me more and more. Sasha refused to look me in the eye and kept running his fingers over his forehead in frustration.

"Nessie…that is not a good idea," he muttered.

"Why not? It's time for you to see the world. Why not start with my world?"

"This…this does not seem…," he stammered.

"I'm not taking no for an answer." I was taking some cues from Ántonia.

"You are not listening to reason. It's been centuries since I have been around more than two vampires at one time…there are things you have not considered…you do not know…," he stuttered. Sasha had never spoken so clumsily to me. He was getting too worked up and it was making him visibly uncomfortable, but I was too stubborn to give up on this.

"We've been over this," I nearly shouted as I forcefully threw an unfolded sweater into my trunk. "Ántonia trusts you and I trust you." I moved around the small room, picking up the souvenirs I had purchased since staying in Romania. When I moved by Sasha to get to one of my nightstands he jumped back as quickly as he could to stand in the threshold so as to not be in my way. He must have felt he was getting too worked up as well if he was being exceptionally careful not to touch me. This angered me for a moment. One step forward, ten thousand steps back.

"Nessie, you are not thinking this through…," he said, his chastisement now sounding more like a plea.

I passed by him once again with the shot glass I bought in Uricani clenched in my hand. He continued talking but I stopped listening. I stopped my packing. I was staring at the portrait across from my bed. The woman with the nearly black eyes looking so distraught and sorrowful…I had seen her. She was the girl in town – the one with the basket of flowers. At least, this was some version of her.

"That's her," I said, interrupting Sasha's ramblings.

"What?"

"The girl in town. I knew I recognized her. She was in front of me the whole time.

Sasha sighed and leaned against the doorframe. He folded his arms to his chest and refused to look at me or the painting.

"I was hoping you would not notice," he whispered.

"So this _is_ her?"

"The portrait would be her aunt or cousin, perhaps a hundred times over. They may not be related at all. The resemblance struck me."

"This is someone you knew? Your wife?" I don't know what made me say it. _Your wife?_ I didn't even know if he had a wife when he was human, or while he was a vampire. He never mentioned it. He certainly could have had a wife as a human. He was twenty-two and the average life expectancy of that time probably wasn't over thirty-five. Yet, it had been the woman's pose which had led me to believe she lost a lover and not a brother or friend. It was in the way she stared at her left hand like it was missing a very important adornment.

"By modern definitions she would have been my fiancée. She was one of the few people who wanted peace as much I did. She may have been the only one who understood my reluctance to join the fight. Most people just saw me as a coward."

"What happened to her?"

Sasha pinched the bridge of his nose for a few seconds, and then promptly tucked his hands tightly under his arms. He was rapidly becoming closed off to me again and I needed to do something to stop it. I stepped forward so I was within inches of him and placed my hand against his cheek. It wasn't anything like my fantasy. He tensed up and looked entirely uncomfortable under my touch. I calmed myself by taking a few breaths and released a slow stream of peaceful thoughts. I mentally painted a perfect, pink Romanian sunset, a gentle misting of rain, and the quiet sounds of owls and crickets during a moonless evening. After a few seconds his face relaxed and he was brave enough to look at me again. I pulled my hand away, allowing him to focus.

"After I was turned, I constantly thought about changing her. I obsessed over it. It was the only thing I could think of. I thought it would be best for both of us. I did not think there was any other way I could be happy again, not without her. Of course, I struggled over how I would accomplish it. I would have had to trick a newborn and then make sure he did not kill her. I cannot tell you how many hours I spent attempting to figure out the details." His eyes darkened as the guilt began to overtake him. I desperately wanted to take his hand, but had no way to do it while he held them both against his chest.

"In the end, it did not matter," he continued. "I kept painting because I found it therapeutic, or at that time, distracting. While I was painting this, I recalled that her eyes were the most beautiful shade of green, but I felt that what I produced on the canvas was not quite right. Something about the color was wrong. I kept adding more and more paint, until her eyes became black and cold. It was then I realized the horrible error in my judgment. I was so disgusted with my selfishness I put it in this room." It was difficult to look at his sorrow-filled eyes, but after he finished speaking I didn't have to because he covered them with his hand.

"It wasn't such a horrible thing to wish for," I said softly.

"To wish this existence on any mortal is a sinful act," he said bitterly.

I didn't blame him for his opinion. His human life was very different life from mine. He grew up in an anti-vampire world filled with hate and prejudice and fear. And then, becoming the very thing his kind fought against had produced centuries of self-loathing and an even greater fear that he would use his ability to hurt others. To him, turning someone, even for the purest of reasons, sincerely was sinful.

"My father changed my mother. I'm grateful he did, otherwise she'd be dead."

Sasha's hand fell away and his eyes were immediately remorseful as he realized his insensitive blunder. "I am sorry, Nessie." The bitterness in his voice faded away as well. "I cannot make judgment on your parents. I only know my own heart and what it felt at the idea of hurting her." Of course, Sasha couldn't hurt someone if he tried. Why was he so afraid that he would?

I looked back to the woman in the picture, her eyes and silent tears finally making sense to me.

"I understand. She lived a happy life?"

"I tried to make sure she would have a life."

"How?"

"I used my ability," he said succinctly.

"Really?" I was honestly shocked that he used his ability on someone he loved, and that he admitted it to me so freely.

"She was distraught over my disappearance. She would have waited forever for me. I did not want that for her. So I made her forget me…forget the pain."

"That was a…impetuous thing to do," I stammered, remembering that he had also called me impetuous to explain the stupid things I had done in my past.

"I know. It is why I use my ability so rarely. It can have more repercussions than I can imagine."

"Like what?"

Sasha barely shook his head and looked away from me again. I stepped into the threshold so I was standing directly in front of him, face-to-face, chest-to-chest.

"What were the repercussions?" I demanded. "You accuse me of not having the information. What happened to her? What happened to your fiancée?

"When I was human, she was the most fiery and energetic person I knew. She loved being around people more than anything, and her greatest wish was to be a mother in a peaceful world. When I disappeared, everyone assumed I had died at the hands of a vampire. She would not accept what her family told her, and she decided to go out alone to find me. Had she continued her search, she most certainly would have been killed by a vampire as well. After I decided I would not turn her, I thought I would try to lessen her strife. I thought I had more control. I thought if I only took the pain away she would be fine. I took every memory of me so she would no longer feel the loss or have the compulsion to fight for a lost cause. By doing this, I did save her life, but I also took her spirit. She was never the same person. She became withdrawn, confused, and introverted. She separated herself from her family completely and refused to interact with anyone. She never found another person to love. She died alone and broken. I was a fool to think I could save anyone with my ability. This is why I cannot come with you. I refuse to take the risk."

"But your abilities have changed. You took part of Ántonia's memory and it didn't affect her personality, right?"

"Yes," he agreed reluctantly.

"So that proves you're in better control now, or maybe vampires can handle such a change better than humans. Sasha, you won't hurt me." In an impulsive movement, I took his one free hand in both of mine and held against my chest, above my heart. He flinched uneasily, his hands being the catalyst for his ability. I remained steady and undaunted, proving to him once again, and hopefully for the last time, that I believed in his control. He probably saw me as nothing but reckless and stupid. That may have been true, but he was anxious and terrified, and hopefully, somehow, these vices would balance each other out.

"What about your family?" he asked. He was beginning to run out of arguments.

"Do you think I would risk my family's safety by bringing someone dangerous home with me?"

"Being around vampires, being around anyone, increases the temptation to use one's abilities. I cannot risk using it on you or one of your family members."

"I told you, I trust you. You are the most mature, if not slightly boring, vampire I know." I tried very hard to smile, hoping he would laugh.

Instead of laughing he just whined at me. "Nessie…" It was actually a good sign. He was being worn down by my stubbornness.

"I want my family to meet you. I need you as a witness to prove I can do something on my own." Going home and saying I was all grown up was not going to be enough. They weren't going to trust me after the irresponsible, immature thing I had done. I needed some reinforcement.

"You know I believe you can do anything you wish," he said gently.

"I know. So far, you've been the only one, other than Ántonia. You trust me, right? You have got to learn to start trusting yourself. Can you handle being alone here for another 1200 years? No one is meant to be alone forever."

"My thirst…," he began, but then couldn't find any words to finish the thought.

"Yes, your thirst is not the most ideal situation, but maybe we can help. Maybe my grandfather can help. We have time to figure it out." I didn't comprehend the significance of the short sentence before I let it fall from my mouth. Sasha didn't need to feed again for another four years. I'd just implied that in four years he would still be in my life. It was hard to imagine him not being in my life. I felt my heart speed up at the thought of it.

"I do not want to hurt you," he whispered. He did something strange and rather wonderful then. His hand, which he held in a tight fist against my chest, slowly unfurled so his entire palm and each of his long fingers was splayed over my collar bone and part of my neck. The cold did not shock me, as it was something I was well-acquainted with, but the fact that he could easily feel my pulse and how it had quickened in the last few seconds added a flutter to my stomach.

"You won't," I whispered back. "The only thing that could hurt me right now is if you didn't come with me."

His eyes looked away from mine again as he considered his massive con list once more.

I sighed loudly and gently lessened my grip on him. What was I thinking, imagining piggyback rides or basically any kind of touching that didn't cause him immense amounts of stress?

Sasha rapidly blinked three or four times and then suddenly and unexpectedly smiled. And it wasn't just any smirk or grin; it was something I had never witnessed before. His smile was bright and full and completely wonderful; nearly as enamoring as his eyes. Something had lowered his inhibitions and caused him to be entirely happy. What could have caused such a sudden change in his demeanor? Certainly not my debating skills. It was then I realized that although I had let go of him, I let that flash of a piggyback ride go through my head before we were completely separated.

"Did you see…?" I started, but couldn't finish. My face went into an immediate state of flush. He was gracious enough to not give a response; he didn't even nod. "I'm sorry," I mumbled, not quite sure what I was sorry about.

"I have never been on a plane," he said, breaking the awkward tension I created.

"And you call me naïve."

* * *

End of Part II


	15. Please Try to be Patient

**Part III—Chapter I: Please Try to be Patient **

My driveway seemed impossibly long – much longer than I remembered. The landscape before me was nearly identical to the watercolor Esme gave me on my last birthday in Forks. I didn't know why I expected anything to be different. I supposed it was because it felt like great deal of time had passed, and depending on one's point of view, a great deal of time _had_ passed. For me, one year was over ten percent of my lifetime; for Sasha, it was minuscule drop in the bucket. So much had changed for Sasha and I within the last year. Somehow, time seemed to have stood still in Forks.

A cab dropped us off at the turn-off to my family's estate. Sasha paid him and then hauled my huge trunk out of the back. It would have looked very suspicious if someone as small and thin as me were to try to lift the heavy trunk, even though I was more than capable. Sasha was happy to carry it, being the polite gentleman he was. I decided it would be best if we didn't have a human drive us up to the home of a family of vampires. It wasn't that my family couldn't handle themselves around a human, I just had enough to worry about.

Fortunately for my stress level, Sasha had done magnificently so far. Given that his eyes were blue, he moved like a human, and he didn't sparkle, he didn't stand out as being something otherworldly, but that didn't mean he blended in either. One reason being he was foreign and spoke with an unusual accent, and secondly, he was just too beautiful. As we walked through the crowded airport he got more than a few open-mouth stares, similar to the look I had the first time I met him. I couldn't help smirking each time I saw it on various women, only because Sasha didn't seem to notice their gawking. He just kept looking at me and tried his best to smile and hide his many apprehensions. Surprisingly, he hadn't fought with me about coming to Forks since we left. He didn't fool me one bit. I could see in the darkened shade of his blue eyes that he was still worried about everything on his extensive list: losing control, hurting me, hurting my family, satiating his thirst. Then there was the other list of apprehensions that had nothing to do with being a vampire: leaving Romania for the first time, leaving Ántonia, meeting a large group of new people while being a little socially awkward.

I internally questioned my decision to bring him with me a few times on the flight over. I was asking quite a lot of him. He had to leave his home, against his better judgment, to go somewhere he'd never been while also walking into a complicated situation that had nothing to do with him. Why _had _he agreed to come?

At the same time, I recognized how incredibly pleased I was to have him with me. Each time I would sigh or groan with impatience, he would gently take my hand, sometimes without even talking, sometimes without even lifting his eyes from a magazine he was reading. As if it was suddenly the most natural thing in the world. The first time he did it, I was so elated he had taken the initiative to touch me that all I could concentrate on was the wild thrumming in my chest. After all that obsessing over getting him to touch me, now all it took was a sigh or some restless fidgeting. After it happened a few more times, the preliminary novelty wore off, and I found not only did I appreciate the generosity of his comfort, I was beginning to expect it. This concept was completely backwards when it came to Sasha and I, and possibly a little risky for more than one reason. Besides the obvious possibility of losing my memories, it was wrong of me to expect him to touch me freely when it gave him anxiety, and I knew I was just setting myself up for disappointment if he decided it was too dangerous and stopped entirely. But ever since he saw that brief image of the two of us, smiling and free of worry, his fears seemed to have quieted. Maybe it was that vision that finally convinced him that he wasn't the monster he thought he was.

We were less than a mile away from home and I was more nervous than ever. As much as I wanted to hold Sasha's hand, I couldn't because his hands were full as he carried my trunk at his side. Sasha didn't bring a single possession with him, not a solitary book, not even his paints or brushes. It wasn't as if Alice didn't have plenty of things for him to wear.

We were walking down the long driveway at an exceptionally slow pace. Truthfully, I didn't mind the slow pace just now. I was excited to see my family but incredibly anxious at the same time. How would I even begin to explain myself? How could I convince them I wouldn't do something like that again, but it had all been for the best? How could I even ask to be forgiven? The potential conversations and fifteen-minute soliloquies swirled in my head, making me dizzy with anticipation.

"How are you feeling, monster-girl?" Sasha asked quietly, disrupting the silence of the forest and the noisy uncertainty in my head.

"I'm fine," I quickly responded. He eyed me curiously and shook his head, not believing my words. I'd been a wreck since we left Romania, so it was pretty easy for him to see through my lie. "I'm nervous," I admitted. Before I could stop myself, the words that had been swimming in my head began pouring from my mouth. "What if they don't even want to see me? What if they're just angry? What if I hurt them too much? What if they've changed? What if I've changed too much?"

"Your family loves you." His assurances cut through my panic. "Simply from knowing you I am convinced that fact will always remain. It is the nature of families." He grinned back at me. It almost did as good a job of comforting me as holding his hand would.

It then occurred to me that Sasha had done so much to help me feel better and I'd done nearly nothing to help him. For the most part, he seemed to be handling himself well, but given how nervous and anxious as I was, I couldn't imagine how he must be feeling. "How are _you_?" I finally was polite enough to ask. "Are you nervous?"

"Will it make you feel better if I admit I am?"

I nodded. I didn't want him to be a mess, but I didn't want to be alone in my uneasiness either.

"Yes, I am overwhelmingly nervous," he said in a slightly mocking tone. "Practically shaking with anticipation and internally stricken with anxiousness and fear." The faux drama in his voice was a perfect impersonation of Ántonia, yet far more annoying than usual.

"Now you're just being a jerk." I went from wanting to hold to hand to wanting to punch him in the shoulder.

"I was hoping to make you smile," he said with a grin that I ignored haughtily. He lowered his head and his grin faded away with a few more steps. "I am nervous about retaining control."

"I told you, my Uncle Jasper will be able to help you with that. He has an ability to keep those around him calm." I'd also mentioned to him my hopes that Sasha might be able to lessen Jasper's bloodlust, and maybe he could share that feeling with all of us. I was sure to explain to Sasha this wasn't my first thought when I invited him to come with me because I didn't want him to think I was only bringing him home to use in an experiment, which was far from the truth. Sasha had said he was willing to try, but he didn't think it was likely to work, pessimistic as always. I didn't give up hope completely, knowing if Sasha's abilities could work toward helping others it would do wonders in alleviating some of his prior guilt.

"Plus, my mother can protect minds. I don't know for sure that she will be a shield against your ability, since there is some physicality involved, but it's likely."

"We are not going to test anything," Sasha declared authoritatively, again, a good impersonation of Ántonia.

"No, of course not. I'm just trying to explain that everything will be fine. My family understands the struggle for self-control more than anyone. In fact, the only thing you need to be concerned about is my father. Try not to think of anything embarrassing," I warned. I wondered again why Sasha had ever agreed to come. Meeting my family would be stressful for anyone.

"I believe my age and years of solitude will aid me in that, ironically enough. There were times I spent upwards of ten days meditating without altering my body position for the entire duration. I know how to control my thoughts, at least when concentrating. Ántonia instructed me not to meditate in such a manner too often. Complete stagnancy is dangerous for vampires and their mental health."

"I know. That's what she thinks is happening to the Volturi," I said off-hand.

"She told you that?" he asked, his eyebrows now knitted together in confusion.

"She told me lots of things." Surely he knew that. Well, there were many topics Ántonia wouldn't share her wisdom on, but she did share things with me when she wanted to. Before I would go to sleep, back at the castle, I often wondered what she and Sasha talked about when I wasn't around. I was conceited enough to think that they must have been talking about me much of the time, but I wasn't conceited enough to ask. In any case, he most certainly knew it was Ántonia's intent to teach me about other supernatural cultures and the history of the Volturi. Something about his confusion just didn't add up.

"What about Jacob?" Sasha asked abruptly.

"What about him?" We'd barely talked about Jacob. I rarely brought him up. Sasha never brought him up before this moment. In the last couple of weeks, we were spending our time attempting to come to terms with his abilities, and I didn't want to lessen Sasha's progress by bringing up my own problems all the time. Of course, that wasn't the major reason we hadn't talked much about Jacob or why I never told Sasha about imprinting. It was so much easier not to talk about it. It certainly wasn't the most mature course of action, and it was evidence that running away does not help to solve problems at all. I knew this and still I did nothing to further my understanding. When it came to imprinting, I was more or less starting at square one.

"He will be very happy to see you, will he not? He is the one you are with. Is that a correct expression?"

"You know, I don't buy the whole, 'I'm European and extremely old, so I don't understand contemporary culture' thing, anymore," I said with annoyance seeping through my voice. I was hoping it would throw him off the topic.

"Are you going to answer the question?" He was becoming as insistent as I could be when I wanted to know something. Damn my influence.

We walked a few yards as I decided where to begin. What was Jacob to me? That wasn't even the right question. What was Jacob to me a year ago? He was my friend. He was someone I loved very much. He was the person my family expected I was going to marry and be with forever because we were connected by magical forces beyond our control. What was Jacob to me now? I sighed heavily and pushed my bangs out of my face. I couldn't start with that, it was too much. I decided to change tactics. Personal safety seemed like a good place to start. "You should probably be wary of him," I said after several minutes of thinking.

"Why?"

"He is very kind and loving, he is a good friend, but Jacob can be jealous. Men usually are." It wasn't a fair thing to say about men in general or about Jacob. I didn't know if Jacob would be jealous or not. Jacob _was_ fiercely protective. I knew he couldn't help it. However, he never had anyone to genuinely be jealous of. For all I knew, Jacob could be completely well-adjusted and unthreatened by a new person in my life. The closer we came to the house the less and less confident I felt about that logic.

Sasha rolled his eyes once. "I will be careful."

I sighed again at his lack of concern. If only he understood. Sasha would never be able to outrun Jacob. Oh…wait. There was something I neglected to tell him. A crucial piece of knowledge that was so second nature to me I didn't think of it.

I stopped in my tracks, my mouth agape. Sasha continued walking forward a few steps, but stopped when he noticed I wasn't moving. He set my trunk down and looked at me inquisitively.

"There is more to it than that," I said in a single breath. "I shouldn't have waited this long to tell you this, but until now, it wasn't an issue." I clenched my teeth and my hands into fists simultaneously. I had no idea how he was going to react to this and I was physically bracing myself for the worst. "Jacob is not a vampire," I spat out with my eyes closed. When I opened them a few seconds later, Sasha was still visibly processing the information.

"He is human?"

"No…yes. He's a…wolf. A werewolf," I practically choked on my own words.

"A werewolf? Your boyfriend is a _werewolf_?" he asked, his mouth now hanging slightly open.

"No, that's not exactly right either. He's a shape-shifter," I tried to explain with a weird, sporadic hand gesture that didn't make my point any clearer, but I couldn't keep myself still. "It passes through the generations. It's actually quite similar to the Gypsies. It's hereditary. He can turn into a wolf whenever he wants."

Sasha's mouth drew closed as he stared me down. I found it impossible to look away. When he finally spoke, there was definitely some anger there, but it wasn't for the reason I would have imagined. "Why did you not tell me?"

He's mad because I didn't tell him sooner? Did he not realize shifters are designed to hunt and kill vampires? Shouldn't he be worried about his safety? Shouldn't he be angry I've endangered his life? "It's complicated," I managed to utter.

"You do not have a greater defense than that?" he asked severely. He'd never talked to me this way. He'd been annoyed by me, frightened with me, and fascinated by me, but never truly angry with me.

"To tell you the truth, I'm not _supposed_ to tell anyone," I said defensively. What was it about Forks that made me fight with whoever was within twenty feet of me? "Sasha, I'm about to see my family who I have not seen or talked to in a year after running away from home. It wasn't the first thing on my mind." This would be the best way to end the conversation for now. We'd avoided fighting for a few days and now was not a good time to start.

"You are right. I apologize," Sasha said flatly, like he didn't really mean it. He picked up the trunk and began walking along the driveway again. After a few paces, I followed behind him.

I was disappointed in myself. Things were already going badly and I hadn't even officially returned home yet. I'd turned my one witness against me before I'd even made it to the front door.

We rounded a turn and the house was in view. Grand and perfect and everything I remembered. Both Sasha and I had instinctively stopped when we saw it.

"Nessie?" he began without looking at me. I knew because I couldn't stop myself from looking at him.

"Yes?"

"Everything _is_ going to be fine. I have no doubt your family will be delighted you are home."

We walked in silence for the last fifty yards to the front door. There were no cars in the driveway, but they might have all been put away in the garage. I was a little surprised no one was there to greet me. Usually, my parents could hear me coming from a mile away. Of course, they may not have been listening for me.

"Come on," I whispered to Sasha.

We walked through the front door, which was unlocked. Someone had to be home. Everything was quiet, but not abandoned. Every tabletop and decoration was clean and dustless. A few minor things had changed. There was a new table lamp, an additional piece of artwork, new books, and a medium-stained Barrel Chair by Frank Lloyd Wright. Those things were supposed to be in museums, not living rooms. Other than those small changes, it was a perfect reflection of my memory. Each of my family members' scents were mixed together and all of them fairly recent. This small assurance filled my heart with relief. They hadn't gone looking for me as I had prayed they wouldn't. Everyone was safe.

"Mom? Dad?" I lightly shouted.

Sasha set my trunk down in the foyer and joined me in the living room. He looked over at me expectantly and I shrugged my shoulders in response. I didn't know what was appropriate or inappropriate even though I was in my own house. I could have given Sasha a tour I supposed. It just felt so strange after being away for so long.

We both turned our heads suddenly toward the click-clack sound of high-heeled shoes against the hardwood floor coming from down the hallway. Alice, my beautiful and silly Aunt Alice, turned a corner into the living room. She had a pair of headphones blaring loudly in her ears while she concentrated on shuffling through her MP3 player. I wondered if it was our scent that finally alerted her to our presence. Whatever the reason, when she finally glanced up, everything happened rapidly after that. She saw the two of us standing awkwardly in the living room, her eyes focused on Sasha for the briefest of moments because he was a stranger, but once she recognized me, her jaw fell and he couldn't tear her eyes away.

"Nessie!!" she yelled quite loudly, due to the headphones in her ears.

"Hi," I said back with a mixture of a laugh and whimper. Oh, I had missed Alice. She was so funny, and kind, and a tireless meddler. In retrospect, she and Ántonia would have gotten along quite well. I couldn't focus on the anger she or my other family members might have felt toward me. I was too happy to see her again.

Alice pulled the headphones from her ears and flew toward me, wrapping me in her tiny, strong arms before I could blink.

"Nessie! You stubborn, infuriating, beautiful thing!" She pulled back and held my face in her hands. Her own face contorted with joy in a way that would have made more sense if she had the ability to cry. "You're here! And in one piece! I had no idea when! I can't stand you half-sies sometimes!" she happily complained. _Half-sies?_ Only Alice could come up with such a term of endearment.

"I missed you too, Alice," I said breathlessly. I wasn't sure how I was going to handle this. I was glad she was happy, but I knew there was more. They were all too good at hiding their emotions. Eventually, she stepped back and took my hands, lifting my arms up between us, and then forcing me to do a turn in place so she could get a good look at me.

"Look at you! You look amazing. Europe did wonders for you, I'm sure."

I rolled my eyes. I was wearing a pair of jeans with holes worn in the knees and a couple of layered cotton t-shirts. I hadn't brushed my hair with anything but my fingers in a day-and-a-half. Most of the clothing in my closet in the cottage wouldn't have traveled half as well as these well-worn jeans. If anything, I looked like a skint back-packer who'd spent her summer in and out of hostels. Somehow, that translated into "amazing."

"You look so much older, but not _that_ much older. I mean…you look…," she faltered in how to articulate her opinion of my less-than-pristine new look.

"Amazing?" I said, finishing her sentence.

"Yes!" she sang cheerfully.

"Where is everyone?"

"Oh…um…Carlisle is at the hospital. Esme is shopping in Port Angeles. She's re-doing the upstairs guest rooms. Jasper is…somewhere." She began looking around as if she could force Uncle Jasper to suddenly appear. Their relationship was so strong, I wouldn't put it past her. "He'll want to see you. Jasper!" she yelled in the direction of an open window. He still didn't appear.

"Alice, where are Mom and Dad?" I asked, recapturing her eyes with mine.

"Oh, sweetheart, they're not here."

"What do you mean? They didn't go looking…"

"No, no, no, no. Emmett and Rosalie took them up north for a hunting trip. Emmett thought it was a good idea to distract them a little bit because of your…um…your…" she stammered.

"My birthday?" My birthday was two days ago. I didn't tell Sasha. I didn't want to celebrate. For the first time since I was born, there were no elaborate gifts or a huge, barely-eaten cake. There was no decoration or fanfare of any sort. All there was to commemorate those final moments of my "youth" was a package of Skittles I had purchased from an airport convenience store.

Then I thought of my parents. It must have broken their hearts when I didn't show up, or call, or make contact of any kind. The image of the two of them alone in the dark in our cottage, wondering where I was, nearly ripped my heart from my chest.

"Seven years old," Alice breathed with a nervous smile. "I can hardly believe it."

"I know. All grown up, right?" I didn't avoid celebrating my birthday for the same reasons I wanted to avoid it on my sixth birthday. Then, I just wanted to forgo the attention and the gifts I didn't even want. After knowing Sasha, after everything I had witnessed in the past year, age meant very little to me now. I was just like my family; age meant nothing to them because they didn't change. And now, neither would I.

"Excuse me," Sasha suddenly broke into the conversation. Poor thing had been standing there for an eternity. I smiled at him to silently thank him for his patience.

"Alice, I want to introduce someone to you," I said, finally remembering my manners. I pulled Sasha forward by his elbow while Alice looked the tall European up and down. "This is Sasha Dimir. He lives with Ántonia in Romania." I had a sudden moment of panic as I said these simple words. To be honest, I hadn't thought much about what it meant to bring someone home with me from across the world, or at least, what it might imply. Getting Sasha to come at all had been enough of an ordeal. If my life were a movie, every character would assume I had brought Sasha home because he was either a great love or a fling that followed me home. "I invited him to come back with me and see how other parts of the world live," I quickly added. I knew those words sounded meaningless as I said them.

Sasha flashed her a captivating smile, his eyes sparkling. He was also dressed much better than I was. He was wearing a dark gray dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up along with dark wash jeans and fancy suede European sneakers. All things Alice would approve of. She smiled back, but appeared a little pensive. Perhaps the color of his eyes was throwing her off just as they had done to me.

"It's wonderful to meet you, Sasha. I'm Nessie's Aunt Alice." Her tinkling voice floated through the air perfectly.

"It is wonderful to meet you as well. Nessie speaks very highly of you," he said smoothly. It was as if the bass of his voice harmonized with the high soprano of hers.

I had almost forgotten the initial charm he had used on me the first couple of weeks we knew each other – before I came to know all the drama of his past, back when everything was playfulness and butterflies in my stomach. The gentle touching and sweet smiles that had passed between us while we were traveling to Forks reminded me a little of that time. It was because he finally seemed comfortable with me again. This time however, he wasn't just being charming or polite. After sharing things with me, things he didn't tell anyone, he trusted me. He'd finally given himself to trusting me completely and what do I do? I tell him I've been keeping important things from him like the fact that my boyfriend is a werewolf. What would I tell him tomorrow? That same werewolf imprinted on me and we're fated to be together forever? No wonder he was angry. I could hardly believe he was still standing here.

"You are…you're fuzzy," Alice pronounced, her voice losing all of its musical quality. Sasha looked over at me, confused, having no idea as to what she was alluding. "What the hell are you?"

"Alice!" I half-shouted. Sasha swallowed and nervously stepped back.

"I'm sorry," Alice immediately insisted. "My head is a little cloudy at the moment. I haven't been around anyone who impedes my sight in a while. What are you exactly?"

"Sasha is a long story," I said while gently patting Sasha's arm to reassure him everything was fine. "Why don't we wait till everyone is here to explain?"

"Fine. You _would_ bring home someone else to mess with my head. Between you and Jacob, isn't that enough? Why must you be so difficult?" She was already exasperated. It didn't take much for things to get back to normal. "I should call Bella and Edward."

"Wait," I uttered before she could jet off to wherever she left her phone. I moved closer to her to give the two of us some imaginary privacy. "Before you call them, what has it been like here? What kind of response can I expect?" I nervously played with the silver rings on my fingers that I bought in Peru.

Alice gave me an endearing look and hugged me again. This time it was gentle and I had time to appreciate it. "Oh Nessie, your parents will be so happy just to know you're safe and home."

"Were they very angry when I left?" I asked quietly as I squeezed her a little tighter.

Alice sighed and kissed my cheek before letting me go. "'Anger' would not be the right word, Nessie."Anger was too much to hope for, apparently. Anger I could deal with. It was usually short-lived and on the surface. The things Alice was suggesting would be much more difficult to atone for.

"I should start apologizing right now. I'm sorry, Alice. The way I did things was wrong."

"I'm just glad to have you home, sweetheart," Alice said as she lightly touched my quivering hands. She took a quick breath and resumed her enthusiasm. "Now! Let's see how long it takes a couple of vampires to get from Vancouver to Forks when they're moving at the fastest pace imaginable!"


	16. And Know that I'm Still Learning

**Chapter II: And Know that I'm Still Learning**

We talked with Jasper, Alice, Esme, and Carlisle for a while as we waited for my parents, Uncle Emmett, and Aunt Rosalie to come home. Nothing had gone as planned so far. I never anticipated most of the household would be gone when I arrived home. I supposed I should have called first. That would have been a perfectly sensible thing to do. I was a little embarrassed that I was just self-centered enough to believe they would all be at home waiting for me with figurative bated breath. Of course, the fact that they were all living their lives as normal was a good thing. I was glad that they could survive without me, but I wouldn't let myself think this meant that I hadn't hurt them by running away.

Then again, if they had been hurt, they didn't give any indication. Jasper, Esme, and Carlisle were just as shocked and thrilled as Alice to see me home again. When Jasper hugged me, he sent waves of pure joy in my direction. The giddy excitement being radiated by Alice probably helped him quite a bit. Esme actually got pulled over by a policeman on her way back from Port Angeles. She was so eager to get home, she sped through a part of the highway we all knew to be a speed trap. She was able to charm her way out of a ticket, even while going thirty-five over, but we teased her mercilessly about it regardless. Everyone wanted to know every detail of my trip; Carlisle, especially, wanted to learn about the supernatural cultures I had encountered. It was an interesting role reversal. I became the teacher for once. Several times, they became impatient with my attempts to explain things verbally, and I was asked to repeatedly show parts of my journey with the pictures in my head. They were all so excited it was difficult to say no.

I tried, numerous times, to apologize for my behavior, but they dismissed my apologies as soon as attempted to make them. I felt very much like the Prodigal Son, or in this case, Daughter. I should have counted my blessings. I didn't _want_ to be yelled at and scolded. I didn't _want_ to know the horrible things they might have gone through. At the same time, there was something very weird about pretending like I had returned from a long trip while ignoring the circumstances of my departure. They were all too nice and they were still spoiling me. Old habits die hard. I decided to just be in the moment and be as happy as they were, which wasn't difficult to do. There would always be more time to apologize. There would be more time to prove I had changed and that the entire trip had been for the best.

Sasha was especially useful in taking the attention off me from time to time. Everyone was interested in his journey through the supernatural. Carlisle knew bits and pieces of the histories of merpeople and werewolves, though he didn't know the extent to which those histories were correct. However, he didn't know anything about Gypsies or their folklore. Needless to say, everyone was fascinated by Sasha's story and extensive life. He apologized several times while explaining that his life of isolation did not leave him with more interesting stories to tell. Did he not understand his existence was more than interesting enough for a story? Eventually, the conversation did lead to his thirst and what he preferred to hunt, be it human or animal or human food. They assumed Sasha could consume human food since his eyes were a human color, but Sasha had a little too much vampire in him for that to work out. Sasha did his best to be polite, but he looked extraordinarily uncomfortable while explaining how his thirst worked. I felt more terrible than ever that I had convinced him to come with me, so I did my best to steer the conversation to something else as soon as possible. Before I could do that, I had to confirm whether or not Sasha was having any impact on Jasper's bloodlust.

We were all gathered in the living room. Sasha was sitting directly next to me with only a few inches separating us. He kept his hands folded in between his legs to help hide the fact that he was clenching them together. It didn't help that everyone in the room was staring at him like he was a new toy. Few people can handle that kind of attention, let alone Sasha. If it was just the two of us, I would have taken his hand and filled his mind with restful images. Instead, I had to sit still with my hands in my own lap.

"So, do you feel anything?" I asked Jasper tentatively.

"No. Not really." Jasper shrugged his shoulders in response. Sasha looked over to me, pained and confused and at a total loss of what to say. I tried to keep any emotion from filtering across my face. Sasha had enough to deal with without me adding guilt over not being able to help my uncle.

"Oh, well. I guess that's that," I said simply. It was an anticlimactic and somewhat disappointing end to an emotionally charged situation, but there wasn't anything I could do to change it, therefore there wasn't any reason to dwell on it.

"I am sorry, Jasper. I wish I could be able to help you," Sasha added quietly. Of course he'd apologize for things that weren't even his fault.

"It's out of your control. Don't worry about it. I'm no worse off than I ever was," Uncle Jasper explained. Jasper certainly must have been caught onto Sasha's anxiety, even I could feel it and I wasn't an empath.

"I wonder why it doesn't work," Alice mused.

"Perhaps we shouldn't get into theorizing. It's probably just because he's a Gypsy and we're not," I quickly commented. That theory didn't make much sense because Jasper could still sense Jacob's emotions and he was a different species. Why wouldn't Jasper be able to sense this particular emotion? As much as I wanted to change the subject for Sasha's sake, I couldn't keep my mind from wondering about the reasoning. Sasha didn't offer any insight; he just awkwardly cleared his throat.

Jasper, an expert on all things emotional, offered his knowledge. "I think I understand. You all realize that humans do not have a lust for blood, yes?"

"Jasper, don't be perverse," Esme chastised.

"I'm just trying to explain this. Humans do not feel bloodlust, not in the physical way we do. They do not have to exude any self-control to manage a thirst for blood because that thirst doesn't exist. That is how it seems for Sasha. He's not exercising any self-control one way or the other; he's just neutral." This assessment caused everyone to look at Sasha with even greater curiosity. I couldn't blame them; he was quite a miraculous find. A vampire without thirst.

"This goes on for ten years before you need to feed again?" Carlisle asked calmly, trying to approach the conversation academically.

"Yes," Sasha said into his lap.

"You've never wanted a human's blood?" Alice asked inquisitively, with her head cocked to the side. It was an impossible situation for my family to fathom. I found it hard to believe as well. Even my throat burned occasionally.

"My thirst is something I prefer not to think on as much as possible," Sasha said darkly. My stomach tightened when I saw his eyes. They were the wrong shade; they were too dark.

"I don't blame you. You're one lucky guy," Jasper said lightly, probably in an attempt to soothe the tension Sasha was emitting.

Sasha kept still and quiet, but his eyes were giving him away. I could see the pain and guilt he felt over the all the lives he had taken. He lived in Romania, protected by the mountains and a heavy fortress, with someone who could protect his anonymity, because he didn't want to think about how he was hurting people. And now, he had to sit in my living room and be told he was lucky? It killed me that I was the reason he had to endure it. He was sitting here, in obvious distress, because I begged him to come with me, because I was too much of a coward to face my family on my own. I couldn't believe he would go through so much just for me. It was too much for me to witness anymore so I finally did a brave and impulsive thing. I covered his clenched, icy hands with one of mine. Sasha's eyes flickered to mine in a moment of slight panic, but after I filled his head with the soft green grasses of a mountain valley, he began to calm down. He even unfolded his hands and held mine between them.

"It's okay," I whispered to him, pretending to be unaware of the four family members witnessing this intimate moment. It didn't matter. It was more important to me that I help Sasha than spare myself a little embarrassment. Besides, there wasn't really anything to be embarrassed about. I _wanted_ to hold his hand.

His eyes lightened and he sighed quietly; then he looked down at our intertwined fingers again. He leaned forward slightly, while simultaneously lifting my hand up to his face, against his lips. He closed his eyes briefly and kissed the tops of my knuckles. It was a perfectly European and old world thing to do, but it wasn't something Sasha did…_ever_. His kiss was a strange combination of ice and softness. I even felt his chilly breath trickle across the back of my hand. A goosebump-like sensation whirled up my arm and through my body. My stomach became a bundle of knots and familiar butterflies. Again, an icy kiss was something I had experienced with my own family, but I'd never had such a reaction reel through my body. I was conscious of the fact that there were four other people standing in the room, and that thought prevented any emotion from playing across my face, but I could not stop my heart from beating prominently against my ribcage. Anyone within a mile of the house could have heard it.

Esme, the mistress of hospitality and tact, gently lead the conversation into her plans for redecorating the upstairs guest rooms. I patiently listened and commented on her innovative ideas for a color scheme, waiting for Sasha to be the one to let go of my hand. He didn't for a quite a while.

I shared additional tales of getting through customs in Africa and getting lost in the streets of Madrid. I talked about Carnival in Rio and Bastille Day in Paris. I was about to get into a story that took place at the famous Hofbräuhaus in München when the distinct sound of screeching car tires was heard from outside. Surprisingly, my mother was the first one through the door, my father a step behind her, and Rosalie and Emmett a few steps behind him. Their faces were difficult to discern. There was shock, relief, disbelief, and joy all appearing in different intensities across their perfect, unchanged faces.

The room was strangely quiet after an afternoon filled with laughter and shrills of excitement. Each of the cold mythical beings was entirely still. My parents just stared at me, like I wasn't real, like I was a hallucination conjured in their weary minds. I wondered if they imagined me during their sleepless nights. I wondered if at any point they believed they heard my voice or the sound of my heart beating, when in reality, it was only echoes of the memories in their broken hearts. Would our relationship need time to mend? Or would they, like the others, just be happy?

I stood up. "Hi Mom. Hi Dad."

Unlike my other relatives, my mother approached me slowly; still afraid I might disappear if she blinked. She wasn't shrieking with joy. She was whispering reverently, as though she was repeating a well-known prayer. "My baby, my heart, my baby…," her hushed voice hung uneasily in the air. It was what I had run away from: being the sheltered baby of the family. However, that was what I would always be to her. It was something I wouldn't understand unless I was in her place. As a mother, even if she recognized that I had grown up, she would always love me in the same way she loved me when she first learned I existed. Her baby…

She was finally close enough to timidly reach out to me. I took her hand and squeezed it, not very gently, but not enough to hurt her. One would think that in such a moment of severe emotion, I would have difficulty keeping my thoughts from pouring out; instead, it was a single memory that kept repeating in my mind. I was seven years old – that is, physically seven. It was very late at night and I was face-down on my bed, crying my eyes out. Silently, my mother entered the room, sat on my bed, and began rubbing my back in a soothing circular motion.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" she asked.

"I don't want to tell you," I muttered into my pillow.

"Why not?"

"Because you'll think it's stupid."

"Nothing you say could ever be stupid."

"I'm upset over nothing. I had a nightmare. That's all. It was just a dream," I rambled on. My voice warbled and my eyes felt puffy and sore. I hated that I was as deeply affected by a nightmare as a normal seven-year-old would be. I knew better. I understood dreams were just dreams and not a reflection of reality. My mother kept moving her cold hand over my back and waited patiently for me to settle down. "I was invisible and nobody cared. No one could see me and no one cared," I finally confessed.

"I would care. I would also think it was amazing."

"What?" I asked, confused. I turned my body so I could see her. She pushed my hair out of my face and skimmed her fingers under my puffy eyes. The coolness was soothing against my skin.

"If you were invisible, think about what an amazing power that would be. I have no doubt you'd be quite mischievous."

"I would behave," I stated as I took a swipe at my running nose.

"No you wouldn't. I know my daughter," she retorted with a smile. "I see you, Renesmee. I love you." She stayed there, repeating how much she loved me until I fell back asleep.

My mother claimed to know me well. She must have been shocked to learn I had done something so out of character. I didn't run away because I wanted to leave them; I wanted to understand who I was without them. I should have discussed it and explained my frustration to my parents. I should have made clear that their desire to keep me safe was preventing them from seeing what was in my heart. However, I never should have broken their trust. I wanted my mother to understand that I truly had changed. I wanted her to know who I was now. What was most important at this moment was for her to know I never stopped loving her. I was sure everyone, sans my father, was wondering what I was showing her. I would never tell. It was something to be kept between the two of us. When I finally spoke, there was only one thing I could think to say, something I neglected to say in the memory, something I wished I had been able to say before I left.

"I love you too, Mom."

Her whispers broke into a sob and she wrapped her arms around me. What an unnatural sight we must have been. Bella Cullen didn't look like a mother, but she held me like one. Her arms felt safe, and loving, and overwhelmingly forgiving. I felt my father's arms around me moments after. It was all so familiar and reassuring. It was all so much the same.

When I looked up the room was empty aside from my parents and me. As nervous as I had been to talking to my extended family, I suddenly felt a great deal more pressure being completely alone with my mom and dad.

"Are you guys okay?" I asked dumbly. _God_, that was a stupid question.

My father reacted by chuckling slightly. He always did have a very dark sense of humor.

"You're really here," my mother said with a sigh. She lightly touched her fingers to my cheek.

I nodded. Leaving was probably the worst thing I could have done to my mother. I'd heard bits and pieces about the time she and my father were separated. I didn't know the specifics, but I knew it was bad. Even now, they didn't like being apart for more than a day. I'd missed them while I was away, but I still functioned. There were times I even thrived. I didn't feel separation anxiety like they did. Did that make me a bad daughter?

"Of course not, Renesmee," my father said._ Right_…the mind-reading. I would have to get used to that again. "It just means you're grown-up."

I nodded again. Grown-up. Real grown-ups didn't use words like "grown-up." I realized then that while running away had been immature, coming back had been the right way to begin my life as an adult. I could never truly be labeled as mature unless I took responsibility for my actions.

"I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt either of you."

"We never thought you did," my father insisted. My mother was staring at my face, but she still looked sad and disbelieving. I wanted to have the joy and elation I had experienced with my other relatives back.

"Mom? I _am _sorry. Please, tell me you believe me."

"I do," she murmured.

"You're probably wondering why I left?"

My parents neither nodded nor spoke. The staring just went on and on.

"At the time, I felt trapped. I know you didn't mean to do it. I know you just wanted to protect me. I understand that better now. But you need to understand I can make decisions for myself. I need to be in control of my own life. I don't want you to decide where I go to school or anything like that. That doesn't mean I want to deliberately disobey your wishes, but you have to at least give me a chance to decide what's right for me." I paused, satisfied I could get through my speech.

My father looked to my mother, waiting for her to say something. Her face softened, and a hint of a smile played on the corners of her lips.

"You grew up too fast," she said finally.

"I'm here," I assured her and embraced her a second time. She sighed against my ear and continually whispered her quiet prayer.

The rest of the evening went on much like before. I had to repeat some of my stories for my parents, Emmett, and Rosalie, although no one seemed to mind hearing them again. When I was asked to display a visual rendering of my stories, my father beamed happily, gladly hearing the stories over and over again in his own head.

It was only around nine o'clock, but the jetlag was not serving me well, and soon I was slumped against one of the armrests of the couch finding it very difficult to keep my eyes open. The constant talking and buzzing kept me awake for the most part. Plus, I did not wish to leave Sasha alone with everyone. Upon introducing him to my parents, both my father and mother eyed him distrustfully. Emmett laughed hysterically at the awkward tension and Rosalie was nice enough to punch him in the arm for me. My parents were perfectly polite to him, and for now, that was the most I could hope for. They would be won over eventually. Sasha could win anyone over.

I yawned and felt someone tap me on the shoulder. I looked up to see my father smiling down on me. I smiled back sleepily.

"I'm awake," I said groggily.

"Good. Could you step outside with me for a moment?"

I looked over at Sasha who was discussing something intently with Carlisle. He probably wanted to know more about the mysterious Gypsies. Sasha didn't look to be as uncomfortable as he had earlier, so with a great deal of effort, I pushed myself up and followed my father outside. We walked along the bank of the river for a while before either of us said anything.

"I missed you, Nessie," my father admitted. For the last few hours, he'd appeared so proud, and I was proud I was able to create those feelings in him. It was so wonderful that he recognized how much this trip had meant to me and how much it benefitted me to get out of Forks for a while.

"I missed you, too." I smiled back at him.

"I really wish I could have been there with you."

"There were many times I wished that too, Dad."

"Tell me what you learned." Suddenly I was a little girl in pigtails again – this being what my father instructed after every lesson I had.

"Didn't you see it in my head enough times?" I teased.

"I witnessed what you experienced, but I don't know what you learned. I'd like to hear you speak about it. I missed your voice."

I was eager for a moment like this over the course of my entire trip, because there was a lot I had learned over the past year. And I couldn't wait to see my father's face in particular when I finally revealed some of my new knowledge. "Well, I learned when you ride a bus in Argentina they play bingo and if you win you get a bottle of wine. Also, the wine tours in Chile are absolutely amazing. Colchagua Valley at Santa Cruz. Unbelievable." I carefully emphasized each syllable of "unbelievable."

My father stopped walking. "What?"

"When you play _tejo_ in Columbia, always be mindful of your fingers when you retrieve your disc from the clay because sometimes the gunpowder can go off without warning."

My father's jaw dropped slightly and he blinked repeatedly. I'd never seen him at such a loss for words. I quickly continued before he could respond.

"Ibiza Town is the party capital of the world, and for good reason. Some of the clubs there are open twenty-four hours a day."

He ran a hand through his hair leaving it in an anxious mess. I promised to be safe when I left, but I never promised to not have fun. "You are not my daughter," he accused.

"I had to do something when Ántonia would stay inside during the day. She could have used her stealth to hide her skin, but humans tended to bore her, and she wanted me to be able to see everything."

"She left you alone to wander around whatever city you happened to be in?"

"Dad, look at me," I ordered. "I'm right here. I survived. Don't worry, I didn't do stuff like that every day. Usually, I'd sleep during the day so we could stay out all night."

"Sounds like a very educational trip," he managed to say with a straight face. I laughed happily, understanding his skill at sarcasm.

"I saw so many amazing things," I stated sincerely, changing the lighthearted nature of the conversation. "I met the most extraordinary people. Merpeople are very scary, far scarier than vampires. They are strong and impossible to catch underwater. Werewolves, I suppose I only met one, but she was a sweetheart. Again, quite strong. That doesn't come as much of a surprise; just look at the shifters."

My father nodded in agreement. These were things he had already witnessed in my head.

"But the most important thing I learned," I paused for dramatic effect, "Loch Ness is a complete tourist trap."

"You went to Loch Ness?" my father asked with a distinct and wonderful laugh in his voice.

"Yes. There's really nothing to see there. Well, the lake is very pretty. You go can go out on a boat for a tour. While they drive around the lake they air this documentary of some guy who spent his whole life proving the Loch Ness monster doesn't exist."

"Fascinating," he said with a smirk.

"That wasn't even the best part. You know how some tourist shops sell mugs or notepads or pens that are individualized with your name on them? Well, my name is never on anything. At Loch Ness it was on everything! It was amazing." This time, I emphasized the each syllable of "amazing." Truly, I did have enough notepads with my name on them to last me a while.

"I don't think your mother was thinking of individualized notepads when she decided to name you Renesmee."

"No one has called me Renesmee, at least on a consistent basis, since…since the last time I was here." I kicked a stone with my foot and it toppled in the direction of the river. I didn't know if it was wise to bring up the time before my departure. I didn't want to remind my father of how much I had hurt him. Would he even tell me the truth about what he and my mother went through during my absence? I doubted it.

"Do you not like it?"

"I like it fine," I promised. At least my name was different. "It's just strange to hear it again."

"Is there anything else I don't want to know about your trip? Any tattoos? Piercings? Any misdemeanors or felonies?" he teased.

"No, nothing like that." I cleared my throat once before I continued, because there was one part of the trip I had neglected to tell anyone thus far. My father could sense the change in my demeanor and folded his arms against his chest. "I learned the Volturi are dangerous," I said just above a whisper.

"Surely that was something you already knew," he responded just as quietly.

"Yes and no. Although I met the Volturi when I was young and I understood how close we came to losing our lives that day, nothing actually came of it. Don't you think that's strange?" The Volturi were both angered and humiliated that day almost seven years ago. They had always been distrustful of my family and my existence was a perfect reason for them to finally destroy us. Despite the fact that no one had broken the law, it had been a miracle we had managed to avoid their punishment. My parents still feared it to this day. They tried their best to hide their fears from me so as not to corrupt my innocent childhood. "It seems like they would have cause to come back and harm us, but seven years have gone by and nothing has happened. As far as we know, the Volturi have been completely silent since then."

"'As far we know'?" my father questioned.

"Ántonia has a lot of theories about the Volturi."

"Such as?"

"She thinks they're faltering in their judgment. She thinks their age and their stillness has affected them. She also thinks they are very afraid."

"What could they possibly be afraid of?" It was a new experience to talk to my father this way. We'd conversed on an intellectual level for many years, but never about something so serious. I had certainly never been the one with new information on the topic. Both my world and my father's had been turned on its head tonight.

"Vampires are not the only power on earth. There are many different creatures that are equal to them, if not more powerful. The only reason the Volturi's reign had been successful is because there is so many of them. More importantly, many creatures don't consider themselves under the jurisdiction of the Volturi or any vampire. They remained quiet to protect themselves."

"And then you were born," he said ominously. I knew we were thinking the very same thing. The first night we met Ántonia, she warned us of this very fact. I was the catalyst that had changed our world. She named me responsible for this revolution. I brought hidden creature to the Volturi's attention. I made them reconsider the strength of their authority. I was the person vampires were willing to risk their lives for, to fight royalty for. How was I still alive?

"There is a growing anti-Volturi attitude out there. It's kept very secretive, but it is growing."

"Do you think it's safe to have associated yourself with this growing resistance?"

"Do you think it's safe to stand in the middle and play Switzerland?" I asked harshly. My family had been doing that for years – that is, until Bella Swan entered their lives. I wasn't sure if it was possible for them to go back to the sidelines. Too much had already happened. Not to mention, the way in which I spent the past year may have undone all those years of careful hiding. I could tell by the look on my father's face he wasn't pleased about that. "But you're right, Dad. If the Volturi ever finds out about the vampires or merpeople or whatever that believes the Volturi should be challenged, if they don't organize, they won't stand a chance. In fact, the Volturi may already know."

"What makes you say that?"

"The merpeople at Victoria Falls said there used to be another clan off the coast of Madagascar, but they have mysteriously disappeared. They could have simply gone somewhere else, but their abruptness of their disappearance led the clan in the falls to believe they may have been destroyed. Many vampires we talked to were wary of staying in any one place for an extended period of time or forming groups larger than two or three people. There has been talk that several covens have been decimated. They all thought you guys were crazy." Everyone knew about my family since the incident in Forks. Many were also desperate to have no association with them. I feared we would have far fewer allies if a battle were to ever begin again.

"Well, that's always up for debate." My father's dark humor came to the surface yet again.

"Ántonia knows about everyone when it comes to vampires, even if they don't know her. I don't know how she knows, she just does. She said some of them are missing. She hopes they're only missing."

"Are you saying the Volturi are killing people to prevent an uprising?"

"That's what Ántonia thinks."

"I feel like Alice would have seen this," my father said with a glance at the house. I wondered how much he would tell them about this, or if he would tell them at all.

"That's what I thought at first. So Ántonia could be completely wrong. And short of going to Volterra and asking the Volturi themselves if they're involved, we don't have any way of knowing for sure. But Dad, you have to understand, there's so much we don't know; too much for Alice to ever keep track of. We've already learned that Alice can't see my future or Jacob's or Sasha's. There are so many blind spots. Not to mention, before tonight, none you knew there were merpeople living under Victoria Falls. You didn't know werewolves still existed. The fact is, we don't know what the Volturi knows."

"What does Ántonia plan on doing with this information?"

"I don't know." She was too mysterious for her own good. "She doesn't want to be the one in power; she's made that abundantly clear. Maybe she just wanted us to be prepared if anything happens."

"Why didn't you tell us what was going on? Before you left?" The conversation took a sudden turn and I caught his distressed eyes with mine.

"Daddy," I breathed. I embraced him. I refrained from calling him "Daddy" in front of other people. I felt like it made me sound like a whiny little girl. But for now, it was just him and me. I hoped it would lift his heart to hear me say it. "Please know I love you and mom so much."

"We love you, too."

"It's hard to talk to you guys sometimes. You're so set in your ways, Dad."

"I have been told that in the past."

"I want things to be different now though. I want to be honest with you and I want you to be honest with me. I don't want to hide things from you."

"I want that too. I am very proud of you." My father was too understanding. He made it too easy. Maybe all fathers were that way with their daughters. "There is another reason I asked to speak with you privately. Alice was going to call Jacob, but I asked her not to. I thought you should call him."

"Oh." That's right. Jacob wasn't here. I hadn't acknowledged it until now. "Thank you. I appreciate that. Is he…is he okay?"

"That's a relative question."

I sighed and looked away from him so he couldn't read the guilt on my face. I didn't know what would happen to a wolf that was separated from his imprint. Before me, it never happened.

My father had unusual look on his face. He was struggling to form the words he wanted to say. What he managed to force out was no better than a human father with a young woman for a daughter. "Sasha…what exactly…?"

"We're not together, Dad," I quickly interrupted. "We're very good friends. Couldn't you see that in his head?"

"I'll admit I did try but his mind is well trained. He can remain focused on a single string of thought. It's quite impressive really." He may have been saying he was impressed, but I would bet that he was really just annoyed. "You are not as well trained, Nessie."

My mouth dropped in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"I could see it in the very memories you projected. Not to mention what your aunts and uncles and grandparents have already witnessed."

That kiss on the hand? That was perfectly innocent, well, innocent enough. "Dad, there's nothing going on between Sasha and me," I rattled off in my defense. What exactly was I even defending? "My thoughts should prove my innocence."

"Your actions are innocent, Renesmee. Your heart may be a different story."

I opened my mouth to respond, but I stopped myself. Sasha was a very important friend to me and things could be easily misinterpreted. People could just as easily misinterpret things between Jacob and me. I'd done nearly the exact same things with Sasha that I had done with Jacob in some form or another in the past. But really, were they done with the same intentions? Huh…my mind began to consider the differences. I had to stop myself again. I didn't want my father to hear those thoughts.

"Are you going to tell Jacob?" I asked cautiously.

"No. I told you I was leaving you that responsibility."

Well, I did want to be treated as an adult after all.

"If you have been reading my thoughts then you know I do love Jacob." I was sure of that fact. I'd known him my entire life. He had been my best friend for most of that time. What wasn't there to love? I thought about those knowing looks we received while I was growing up. They all seemed to believe Jacob was the person with whom my future lied. For God's sake, he imprinted on me. I was _supposed_ to be in love with him.

"I don't want to antagonize you. I just want you to be honest with yourself. You did bring him across the world."

"Thanks, Dad."

He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and placed it in my hand as a not-so-subtle hint of the next thing I should do. He turned away from me and started back toward the house. I stared down at the phone. Since when did cell phones weigh a hundred pounds?

"Dad, is it possible to love two people at the same time?" I asked in the direction of the ground.

He paused and turned his head slightly over his shoulder. "I don't know, Nessie. I don't know."


	17. And You have Closed Your Eyes

Bella's POV

**Chapter III: And You have Closed Your Eyes**

The chatter died down since Renesmee left with Edward. Emmett and Jasper got bored waiting for her to come back and started a game of cards. I was sitting on the couch with my sisters and mother-in-law surrounding me. Only the Romanian and Carlisle were engaged in conversation. They were murmuring back and forth about the woman who virtually abducted my daughter. I could tell from the determined look on Carlisle's face that the Romanian wasn't telling Carlisle what he wanted to know. He was wondering, as were we all, why she decided to coerce my daughter into running away with her. What was the actual significance of Renesmee's presence in the vampire world? Renesmee was putting all the blame on herself for leaving, of course, but none of us saw it that way, not entirely. God, if that woman was here now…she was lucky Renesmee came back without her.

Alice was sitting right next to me, practically on my lap, while Esme and Rosalie sat across from us. Rosalie kept glancing over at the Romanian and Carlisle, probably listening in on their conversation as well. She had a distinctive glare on her face – one that sharpened her beauty so harshly that any man would be rendered speechless from fear as opposed to being in awe of her good looks like usual.

One night after Renesmee left, while I was still mad with worry and furiously angry that no one was taking my side about looking for her, Rosalie came into my bedroom and sat on my bed. She told Edward to leave the room. I was shocked when he followed her directions, since he hadn't let me out of his sight for over a week. She looked as enraged as I felt.

"I want to go, too," she said. "I'd do anything to get her back. You know I'd fight her, Ántonia. I don't care how many powers she has. It's not as if I have any powers I could give her."

I was filled with excitement after each and every one of her aggressive declarations. I could always depend on Rosalie. My head was spinning with plans for the next course of action, but before I could decide upon any of them, she blurted out, "But we can't."

Her final statement immediately replaced my fury with confusion. Why would she take _Edward's_ side? Everyone in the family, including Rosalie, knew she lived vicariously through me. She loved Renesmee more than she loved me, and I was okay with that. So many choices were stolen away from Rosalie, and I was glad my daughter was so full of love that she was able to heal her aunt, at least a little. And Rosalie returned her love intensely. She was as willing to give her life for Renesmee as I was. So, when she sided with Edward and everyone else, I was naturally stunned.

"It's the only way to keep her safe. And you know it." I remembered the way her steely eyes caught mine, and the shame which filled me for letting myself get so out of control. Once in a while since then, I had to remind myself of that conversation to keep from flying out the door in search of my daughter. The way Rosalie was staring at the Romanian now rivaled the look she used to jolt me out of my rage back then. For Renesmee's sake, we were both polite to the man she brought home, but she was outside with Edward now, and Rosalie…I could always count on Rosalie.

"She looks beautiful. So grown-up," Esme commented.

"Aside from the rags she decided to dress in," Alice sneered. "I swear, how does she manage to leave home and come back more like her mother than ever?"

I playfully elbowed my sister. She pouted and pretended to be hurt. I hardly dressed in rags, even when I was human. Renesmee could wear a garbage bag and she would be lovely. The moment we reached the house, I couldn't help but stare at her. I had the worst fear in my mind that she would return and look completely different. I knew this was irrational, but after six years of near constant changes in her appearance, what else could I think? The truth was, Renesmee hadn't changed much in the time she was gone. She was about three-quarters of an inch taller, her hair was perhaps four inches longer, but her face was thinner, as was her waist. The only places she put on weight were those places on her body that made her look "grown-up," as Esme had said. Her hips were just a little wider and her chest balanced it out. She looked like a woman.

"She _is_ beautiful." I gave a nod of thanks to Esme.

"The things she has managed to see in a year, it's amazing," Esme pondered.

"The thing she managed to bring back with her is pretty amazing as well," the pixie observed. She waggled her eyebrows suggestively in the Romanian's direction. I would have elbowed her again, but she scooted down the couch and out of my reach. Damn clairvoyance. Still, she was on the receiving end of some lethal stares from Rosalie and me.

I assumed Carlisle noticed our conversation, because he led the Romanian out of the living room and toward his study. Emmett and Jasper, possibly encouraged by our chattering as well, followed behind them.

"Have you noticed the way he moves? It's completely bizarre," Rosalie hissed once all the men left the room. "And how he's been living with that Ántonia woman for a thousand years and it's supposedly strictly platonic? I'd love to know what Edward has heard on that matter."

I had to bite my lip to prevent myself from snickering.

"You know, Bella," Esme began, "Renesmee is a remarkable girl. We've all known this since we laid eyes on her. She's beautiful, she's intelligent, she is full of life, and her heart is open to new experiences. It should come as no surprise to any of us that this would not go unnoticed by others." She carefully eyed both Rosalie and me, silently chastising us for being rude to Renesmee's guest. I sheepishly looked down at the floor, but Rosalie didn't drop her hard stare, not for a moment. I loved Rosalie.

"Are things going to be different now?" Alice asked suddenly.

"Different how?" I replied. Did she mean different from the hell I went through over the past year? This was the first time in months that I felt good again – as ambiguous a description as that might be, it was true. With my daughter safe and sound under our roof again, I felt warm, complete, and just _good_. My baby was home.

"Well, I don't mean to put a damper on the celebration, I'm just as happy as all of you that she's home, but I expect you might want us to treat her differently."

I glanced at my other sister and my mother-in-law, they seemed anxious to hear my response as well. "It's up to Renesmee to decide how she wants to be treated."

Alice immediately sat up and straightened her posture. "See, _that_ right there, that's different," she said with a point of her finger.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

Esme leaned forward in her chair and spoke before Alice could open her mouth. "I think what Alice is trying to say, not so delicately, is that while Nessie was growing up we looked to you and Edward to set an example as to how we should handle her; and we felt it was impressed upon us that we should—"

"Shelter her," Alice interrupted bluntly.

"Alice!" Esme whined.

"Let me spare you the embarrassment and say what we're all thinking. Bella can beat me up if she wants to," Alice said in jest, but I was beginning to consider it.

"I never told any of you to shelter her," I retorted.

"We were following your rules," Alice said. Then she proceeded to list them. "No school, no fighting, no humans, no guests, no leaving her alone to hunt, no leaving her alone outside the house, no deviating from the home schooling schedule, no traveling—"

"Those rules were in place to protect her," I said automatically. They all knew this, and they certainly understood my and Edward's reasoning for it.

"And what were we protecting her from?"

"Is that a serious question?" I responded, shocked. I took a good look at each of their faces. Alice did appear completely serious, Esme was beginning to look upset, and Rosalie was rubbing her palm over her forehead. She was just as protective as I was. Surely, _she_ didn't agree.

"She spent the last year visiting some of the most dangerous beings on the face of the planet and she came back without a scratch," Alice explained.

"What are you saying? That we should have just let her do whatever she wanted? We should have let her spend time with humans while she had a thirst for them and while she grew half an inch every other week?" It was impossible. Nessie just couldn't have a normal life. It killed me that she had to miss out on things, but what else could we do?

"No, Bella. I'm not saying your rules were wrong, but the rules don't matter anymore. They stopped being relevant the day Nessie left and maybe even before."

"Please. You encouraged her to break the rules constantly," I said, choosing to go on the offensive. Alice couldn't deny it. Yes, her aunts always kept an eye on her; they also took her out of Forks to go shopping or to see an art show or a concert without our permission whenever they had the chance. Yes, her uncles would watch over her when they took her hunting, but they would also spar with her on every possible occasion. Even her grandparents let her stay up later than she should have. My daughter was too charming for her own good.

"And when did you punish her for it?" Alice accused.

Now she crossed a line. "First you say our rules were too strict, now you're saying we spoiled her?"

"We all did," Alice confessed, guiltily. At least she was claiming some responsibility.

"Look, it's not your place to judge my and Edward's parental decisions," I explained, my anger unapologetically apparent in my voice. "You don't know what it's like to have your daughter grow up in a matter of months. You don't know what it's like to have her pull away from you before you even get a chance to hold on. You don't know what it's like to know powerful people want her dead!"

"You're right," Esme interjected. "And we don't know what it's like to have a daughter disappear and to not hear from her for a year."

I was hitting below the belt. Informing them not only of things they didn't understand, but of experiences they would never have. I looked over at Rosalie. She was looking down at the floor. Her bright blonde hair covered her beautiful face, hiding how much I must have hurt her. "I want her to be safe," I muttered under my breath.

Esme got up from her chair and sat on the coffee table in front of me. She took my hands and gave a perfect smile of understanding. "We all want that, sweetheart," she breathed. How could I have accused her of being unable to understand my pain? She was well-practiced at being a mother. She was doing it long before I was.

"I'm sorry. Nessie couldn't have better people surrounding her. You have been wonderful aunts, and you've been a wonderful grandmother, Esme."

"And you are a good mother, Bella," Esme assured me.

"I created an environment she couldn't stand to live in," I scoffed. Edward and I had both been combing our memories for the last twelve months, attempting to figure out what had driven Nessie away. She spelled it out to us quite plainly. She felt trapped. Of course she did. All teenagers felt trapped by their parents. However, most teenagers are unable to run away from home without a car, money, or clothing. Most parents don't realize until their kids are eighteen that they have no power to stop them from doing what they really want to do. We were made bluntly aware of this at age six. We never meant to shelter her. What parent consciously makes that kind of decision?

"Bella," Alice cut in. She slid down the sofa so she was right next to me again. "It's not as if we were anymore prepared for her disappearance than you and Edward. Nessie leaving was not your fault; it was just her natural reaction to her circumstances. However, the way she is now, it's proof that you and Edward are good parents. The first thing she said to me was that she was sorry about running away and she was wrong. She didn't want to hurt any us. She's always had a caring heart. She didn't develop that while she was away. But the confidence and the bravery she has now, that's new. I'm proud of her."

"I am too," Rosalie interrupted. "Things are going to be different, but it doesn't mean she loves us any less."

I nodded, finally understanding what they were trying to get through my head. Torturing myself about her departure was pointless, as was denying the woman she had become. Looking back, I wouldn't have done anything differently. I wished Nessie could have felt comfortable enough to come to us, but I had done the best job I could have. Did I want more time? Of course, any parent would agree that six years was not enough. But that wasn't the reality in front of me, and I needed to accept that my daughter would have to take the lessons I had given her and come to her own decisions. Alice, Rosalie, and Esme all spoke of her loving heart, naming Edward and me responsible for creating such a beautiful virtue in her. If there was anything I was proud of, it was that.

I heard the back door slide open and Edward walked into the living room a half-second later. Renesmee wasn't with him and for just a moment before he caught my eyes he had a worried look. He replaced it with a smile, and if I were still human, I never would have caught his worried frown.

"Uh-oh. All the Cullen women gathered in a room, alone. That's usually a bad sign," he said sweetly.

"Well, aren't you paranoid?" Alice teased.

"When it comes to you, definitely," he taunted back. I rolled my eyes. Edward and Alice were absolutely terrible about bickering. Thank God we lived in different houses.

"I assume you'd like your wife," Rosalie said with a wink.

"You assume correctly."

"Take her. Let's go bother the men. Women may scheme but whenever men gather in a room together they just invent ways to compete with each other." Alice hopped over the couch. Esme gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze as she followed after Alice. Rosalie gave me a knowing nod and a smirk. I would have felt bad for the Romanian if I wasn't also hoping Rosalie might scare him away.

I stood up and faced Edward. He folded up his arms against his chest and waited until everyone exited the room. "What's going on?" I asked impatiently.

"Nessie is going to call Jacob."

Edward didn't have to wait till our relatives were gone to tell me that. Everyone was probably wondering why Jacob wasn't here in the first place. "Good. He should be here."

"I agree." Edward nodded.

I had seen Jacob progressively less and less during the months Nessie was gone. Now that I thought back on it, I hadn't seen him in over three months. I didn't smell his scent in the woods anymore either. I tried calling him, but he stopped answering his cell and every time I called his home, Billy would say he wasn't in the mood to talk. At least Billy didn't B.S. me and make up excuses about Jacob's whereabouts. I didn't blame Jacob. Being around us with Nessie gone probably just hurt him. I felt terrible I hadn't done more to help him. I was supposed to be his best friend, after all. But somehow I knew, even if I tried, it never would have been enough. I could never replace an imprint. Nessie was here now, which simply had to mean things would be good again. Different, as my in-laws pounded into me just now, but good.

"Is there something else?" I implored. I was still wondering about what was worrying him when he first came in the house.

"Yes, uh, where to start?" he fumbled. "She has a lot to say about the Volturi."

"What?" I immediately responded. My hands turned into fists.

"Don't panic. She's not in danger of them, not any more than she ever was. They don't know that she was ever away from us." Edward took one of my fisted hands and unfurled my fingers. He stroked my palm with his thumbs. "I'll let her tell you about it. She seems to know more than the rest of us."

"Okay." I sighed, trying to release my fears by letting myself relax into his touch for a moment.

He paused to take a breath as well. I didn't like his hesitation. I caught his eyes and gave his hand a squeeze of encouragement. He had to tell me soon what was upsetting him or I'd make up my own reasons, which would be ten times worse than the truth.

"She asked me if it is possible to love two people at the same time," he finally said.

I was wrong. I couldn't imagine anything worse than this.

"She did not," I replied in disbelief. Edward silently nodded. I pulled my hand away from his and took a step back. If I kept my hand in his I risked hurting him as my body entered a state of shock. I stared at Edward for a few more seconds, hoping he would break into laughter and admit it was all a joke. Unfortunately, he remained calm and serious. I took a few breaths to calm myself down as well, but it didn't work. "Alright. Okay. Fine." I babbled like an idiot. "I'm just going to have to tell her."

"Now, Bella. I don't think you have to resort to that." His voice was gentle and musical, even as he disagreed with me. It was the voice he used when he feared I was going to go all newborn on him.

"The only reason Jacob and I didn't tell her about our relationship was because the subject was unquestionable. They were meant to fall in love with one another and if she doubts that, well, I can certainly relate."

"I am not certain Nessie will see it that way. In fact, I don't think her situation is similar to yours."

"She's in love with two people at the same time. One of whom happens to be Jacob Black. Other than the fact that the other person is not you, what exactly is the difference?"

"Jacob didn't imprint on you."

I patronized him so I should have expected him to patronize me right back. Still, I glared at him, doing a pretty good impression of Rosalie.

"All the more reason to tell her," I insisted. "Jacob may have loved me, but he was put on this earth for Renesmee. She's young. She doesn't understand."

"Nessie does not have the same hopeless abandon you have when it comes to love and you cannot fault her for it," Edward pointed out gently.

"But Jacob—"

"And you can't use Nessie to make amends for the times when you hurt Jacob just to assuage your guilt."

"This is not about my guilt," I growled.

"Then what is it about?"

"Jacob…he…he imprinted on her," I stuttered. How many times could we point that out to one another? It was always the be-all and end-all to all arguments. I had failed Jacob so many times in a number of different ways. Although part of me didn't want to give my daughter to anyone, we had all come to see Nessie as atonement for the unfair things that happened to Jacob. We spent seven years coming to grips with how to handle Jacob taking Renesmee as his own one day. To be honest, it made me happy to know Jacob was happy. And Nessie was so head-over-heels for Jacob growing up, I'd honestly never considered the situation might make her unhappy.

"The imprinting…it's a wolf quality. It's not necessarily a quality of Nessie." Nowhere in the werewolf handbook did it say the imprintee must fall in love with the wolf. It was just always assumed. She wasn't supposed to fall in love with someone else.

Feeling mentally exhausted, I sat down on the armrest of the sofa. I looked up at him sharply. "Why didn't you ever tell me she wasn't in love with Jacob?"

"I'm not sure that she's isn't. She's not even sure. You know Nessie has always protected parts of her mind from me. She's indecisive," Edward said with an aggravated shake of his head.

"She shouldn't have any questions about this. If it weren't for the Romanian—"

"Are you referring to Ántonia or to Sasha?" Edward's mouth suddenly curved into a smile.

"Did you hear how he called her 'monster-girl'? What the hell kind of nickname is that?"

The smile grew. "It was meant as a term of endearment, I'm sure."

"It's insulting," I said lowly. Edward finally straightened out his smile in recognition of how irritated I was.

"Neither Nessie nor Sasha have done anything to put themselves at fault other than being…confused."

My mouth dropped. I couldn't believe how he defended him. Was Rosalie really the only person on my side anymore? Taking advantage of my stupor, Edward grasped my hands and pulled me up and into his arms. He massaged my back affectionately, but I was too annoyed to enjoy it.

"Stop being so calm about this," I ordered.

"I can't help it," he chuckled. "She's too much like her mother and I learned my lesson."

I lifted up my chin to look at him. He tenderly pushed my hair away from my face and smiled, which only increased my annoyance. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"How many times did I tell you that we shouldn't be together? Despite my best efforts, fighting you only drove you further toward me. Other than encouraging her to apologize to Jacob, I won't push Nessie one way or the other on this. She's going to have to decide for herself."

I huffed and Edward dared to laugh through his nose and grip me a little tighter. Here was an emotion I hadn't felt in a while. This silly feeling of annoyance, even our argument…it was wonderful. It was wonderful because of its source. We were fighting about our daughter, and it wasn't because we didn't know where she was or whether or not she was alive; it was because she was home. The realization suddenly sunk in and a feeling of absolute joy hit me like a train. I hugged Edward back and leaned into him, my knees feeling like they were going to buckle under the sudden flood of emotions. "Edward, she's home. She's really home," I breathed into his chest.

He gently kissed the side of my head and whispered, "You looked upset when I walked in."

"I was getting some parenting advice from your sisters and your mother."

"Parenting advice? Interesting. And when have they been parents?"

"It wasn't terrible advice. Basically, they said I need to stop blaming myself for her leaving and that things are going to be different. We have to start treating Nessie like an adult. They seem to think that will be hard for me."

Although they had spoken to _me_, they could have given the exact same advice to _him_. It was for that reason he pressed his lips to my temple and simply said, "It will be an adjustment."

"Do you think she's different?" Alice seemed to recognize the new facets of my daughter's personality before I did; perhaps because I was still struggling to accept the fact that she was home at all.

"She is very proud of being on her own. She doesn't want us to make decisions for her any longer."

"So the rules are out the window."

"Apparently so. She has been wondering what it was actually like for us when she left. She feels we're not being honest with her, yet she's afraid to ask. She doesn't want us to be in pain."

I winced as the sharp pain of separation filled my chest. "What if she leaves again?" I whispered.

"She won't. She promised she wouldn't do something so irresponsible again." He sounded so sure. There was once I time when I was just as sure.

"Then why tell her? What's the point? To punish her? She's an adult, we can't punish her anymore."

"She wants to know."

The memories were easy to recall. They were also overwhelmingly recent. As little as twenty-four hours ago I was muddling through the ever-present ache that her absence created. "Edward, I don't want to think about that anymore," I said, clutching the fabric of his t-shirt.

"Okay, okay." He put his fingers lightly on my chin and moved his thumb over my cheek. "We don't have to say anything. Not unless she asks."

"Thank you." I kissed him once to let him know how thankful I really was. "So, how do you really feel about the Romanian?"

This time, he didn't laugh. He pursed his lips and thought hard about the question. "Can I reserve my response until I have a talk with him?"

"You never thought you would have to have a talk with a boy, did you?"

"Well…not more than once."

"We could always just sic Rosalie on him."

"I'll keep that in mind."

I felt another foreign experience spread across my face. I was smiling. I hugged my husband again and for the first time in months, the weight of our grief wasn't holding us down. I had everything I could ever ask for. My husband. My daughter. But as a held him, even this moment of bliss was tainted. I found the person I was meant to love forever, and I thought, so had Jacob.


	18. I'm on my Knees in Front of Him

**Chapter IV: I'm on my Knees in Front of Him**

I sat on the stoop of the main house throwing the phone back and forth between my hands. I was waiting for Jacob.

Things had gone better than expected with my family, but I feared dealing with Jacob would be a completely different experience. Calling his house had been surreal. As I waited through the rings for the eventual pick up, I silently repeated to myself: _please don't be Jacob. Please don't be Jacob_. It felt wrong tojust call him up. The gesture was too casual, but showing up at his doorstep felt overwhelming. This wasn't how it used to be. Being with Jacob was the most natural thing in the world. It was like breathing. There was no definition for it, there was no explaining it. It just _was_. Why was I freaking out over this? Jacob was _my_ wolf, which meant he was supposed to understand me and do what _I_ needed, right? What in God's name did I need?

Fortunately for my angst-ridden psyche, Billy was the one who answered my call. There is no way I could explain the relief that exploded in my chest for the small buffer between the man I abandoned and me. Billy didn't sound very happy to hear my voice. We had a weird relationship. He was sweet to me when I was little, as if I was his own daughter, but around the time I was five years old and appeared as a young woman, he became colder toward me. Never rude or impolite, just less friendly. At the time, I figured he felt uncomfortable with my rapid change into a woman, but I was never sure. Now if he was rude, I could be certain of the reason. Abandoning his son with hardly a word? Yeah, Billy was going to hate me forever. He told me he expected Jacob home by eleven, so I expected Jacob around 11:15, depending on how fast he was running. I didn't bother to ask if Jacob had been angry with me. It didn't matter. I had my speech memorized and just hoped he would stand to listen to me.

I listened to the sounds of the nearby forest carefully, expecting to hear the scurry of four feet against the soft pine needles. When 11:15 past by, nervousness began to creep around my stomach. Combine that with my guilt and my irrational fear of seeing him again and I was headed for a breakdown typical of a fifteen year old. Was he not coming? Maybe Billy fell asleep and Jacob didn't even know I was here. Surely he would call me if he wasn't coming? Then again, I might be getting what I deserved. Perhaps Jacob would be the first to repay me with the cruelty I'd shown him when I left. As much as I was convinced I deserved it, I couldn't believe Jacob would be vindictive. Jacob and I bickered from time to time and we were competitive, but he had never been heartless. He was all heart. I was the heartless one.

The minutes ticked by and exhaustion was beginning to muddle all my self-deprecating and worrisome thoughts. Maybe I should have waited until tomorrow to call him. I glanced at the phone one last time, willing it to ring or chirp or give me an indication as to his whereabouts. It sat in my hand, silent. When the time on the phone flickered 11:47, I decided he wasn't coming and resolved to try again tomorrow. He might be angry but I was stubborn. As I turned to enter the house, a familiar yet unexpected sound began to work its way up the driveway. My ears met up with the whirring of a car engine and the squeaking of brakes when Jacob's car eventually stopped in the driveway. He didn't arrive like my parents had – in a mad rush with their tires squealing. He drove up slowly and well under a safe speed limit. Jacob rarely drove to my house. He would just show up at my window every morning in his ripped up, grass-stained clothing and coax me to go on a run with him. That's why I had been listening for the soft footsteps of his paws coming across the forest floor.

"Jacob," I whispered from my place on the stoop. I froze. I could smell him. The scent hit me like a truck. It was the smell of earth and pine needles and grass after a cool rainstorm…and something else…he smelled like air. Clean, perfect, revitalizing air. I could breathe in that smell for days and days and never have enough. His scent hadn't been in the house at all. It wasn't in my bedroom. It wasn't even outside my window, his window. A year's worth of Fork's near-constant rain washed it away. When was the last time he was here? Was it the day I left? That couldn't be; he and my mother were such close friends, but I had no evidence to the contrary.

The driver's side door clicked open and closed again. He walked out from behind his car, wearing pants with no holes and a clean, unwrinkled t-shirt. He stopped when he saw me. His face was skeptical – like he didn't recognize me.

"Jacob," I repeated, no louder than before. Thoughts were skidding through my head so fast I couldn't get a hold of them. My mouth went dry and my stomach clenched up like I'd been punched in the gut. My chest felt so tight. Something _was_ wrong with me. I wanted so badly to prove to him and myself that I'd become a stronger person and here I'd been reduced to a sniveling mess just at the sight of him. I never reacted to Jacob like this before. I didn't even cry for him while I was gone. Again, heartless. Well, maybe not heartless. Maybe I was cautious. I fought so hard to keep our relationship and imprinting and everything it meant out of my head, and by doing so, I also pushed away how much I actually missed him. The feeling of being away from him for so many days and nights flooded through me – almost knocking me over with the overpowering weight of it. In that moment, I didn't care about the definition of our relationship or what imprinting would mean for us or even how I didn't understand it. It was just Jacob and me and that was all I needed to understand.

But he just stood there and stared. He didn't even smile.

"Jacob," I called out for the third time, this time at a normal volume. However, my voice already sounded defeated. I took a few brave steps away from the house.

"Is it you?" he asked.

"Yes, you idiot. It's me," I answered with a broken laugh. Did no one think I would actually come back? I looked down at the ground as I walked a few more paces toward him. I came to a slow stop when my eyes met up with his shoes. Black leather sneakers with metallic silver detailing. Much nicer than what he usually wore. I took a breath before I looked up at him, which was a mistake because it filled my head with an acute intake of his scent, causing a dizzying effect.

I didn't know if it was the scent or the sudden emotions or the disheartening look of disbelief in his eyes, but something snapped and I forgot all my planned words and threw my arms around him. Heat. The warmth of his body. Oh, how had I lived without this warmth? He was one of the only people on earth who would feel warm to me; perhaps, _the_ only person. Because he didn't just warm my skin; his was a warmth that enveloped my heart. It was a calming effect even better than Uncle Jasper's artificial tranquility.

I waited for him to embrace me back, but his arms didn't move. My stomach fell and a shaky breath escaped my throat. My face flushed with embarrassment. When had I ever been embarrassed to hug Jacob? When had he ever refused to hug me back? Never. My worst fears were coming true. I'd hurt him too much. He wouldn't forgive me. I pulled my arms away and ran my hand up and down the opposite arm, trying to wipe away the heat. I needed to think straight. He needed to understand why I left.

"How are you?" he asked. It was such an impersonal question.

I swallowed a lump in my throat as I slowly looked up at him again. His eyes were so empty. "I'm fine," I said weakly. "I'm happy to see you again. I missed you." It wasn't even a lie.

"How was your trip?" Another impersonal question. This wasn't how we talked to each other. This was all so wrong. He was here in body, his warmth, his smell, his voice; it was all the same. But his heart. Where was his heart?

"It was wonderful," I finally choked out. "I met a werewolf. A real one in France. She was a very sweet girl. Extremely strong. She does power lifting competitions." These were all such meaningless words.

Jacob's eyes remained blank. What actually happens when a wolf is separated from the person they've imprinted on? Well, now we both knew. It kills them. I might as well have ripped out his heart and stomped on it. "You don't seem very happy to see me," I whispered.

"It's unreal. You've been gone a long time," he said.

It was just a year! _Just a year_.Who was I trying to kid with that argument? So much can happen in a year. So much can happen in a single moment. But he was here, right? He was giving me this time. I would make him understand.

"I know, but look, give me a chance," I said, pleased that there was only a small amount of begging in my voice. "Do you remember last year on my birthday when you asked what my wish was and I said I didn't know?"

He didn't nod. He just kept staring at me with those frighteningly vacant eyes. It was one of the last conversations he had with me. Of course he remembered.

"I lied," I finally confessed. "I did know. I wanted to make my own choices, even if they were stupid, even if they were wrong. I needed to be free of everyone's expectations for a while so I could actually figure out who I was. I know it was selfish, but it worked. I'm a more complete person. I don't regret leaving, but I regret how I handled things. I'd do anything to undo the hurt I caused everyone, caused you. And now, the only thing I can do is tell you how sorry I am every day until you forgive me." I took a well-needed breath when I finished my hurried speech.

He looked at the ground between us. He cleared his throat. He licked his lips. And before I could apologize a second time, his arms were around me.

"Oh, Ness…Ness," he whispered.

I pressed the side of my face against his chest again. It was a completely different feeling now that his arms were around me. I felt comforted and forgiven. This was home.

"I was so worried about you."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Ness, I…oh God…I missed you so much." He pushed me back slightly only so he could lean down several inches and press his forehead against mine. Suddenly, he felt closer, much, much closer. An unprecedented kind of closeness. His eyes were shut tight and I was grateful because my face was probably not reflecting the relief his was. The way he said he missed me expressed a deep pain and regret I didn't know how to react to. It was a reminder of the intensity of his feelings for me. Feelings he technically hadn't admitted to, but regardless, I was unsure if I reciprocated them. My breath was coming faster and my heart was out of control. Unfortunately, these physiological alarms could be read several different ways. One of which is excitement, another is nerves, and yet another is sheer panic. Unless Jacob opened to eyes to read the fear on my face he would never know it was the latter. Several seconds passed and neither of us moved. Jacob took a steadying breath and tilted his head slightly. What was his doing? Should I stop him? How could I? I'd broken his heart once already. Reading my labored breath as encouragement, his mouth pushed toward mine and my lips parted in some kind of uncontrolled response. His lips hovered over mine and I could taste his breath. He was so close. It was too close. It was too much. But this was Jacob. I was supposed to be with Jacob. My mind and my body were throwing so many pieces of information at me I didn't know what to do.

I don't know what would have happened if the front door hadn't creaked open and Sasha hadn't stepped onto the porch. "Nessie…oh…," he said after quickly assessing the scene.

I took a sudden step back from Jacob, leaving him with his arms slightly outstretched and his eyes blinking in confusion at the abrupt interruption. For a moment, I was so thankful my swift move could be interpreted as being embarrassed at being caught doing…whatever it was we were doing. But that moment ended when I panicked again when I saw Jacob eyeing the strange vampire standing on the porch. Anxious to defuse the force of his gaze I grabbed Jacob's hand and pulled him a few steps closer to the front door. I flashed an image of the river in the backyard, a peaceful sight. I'd never done that kind of visual calming tactic with Jacob. He had always been so happy and carefree around me that it wasn't needed. I was unsure if it would do anything other than distract him, which might be a good thing, anyhow.

"There's someone I want you to meet. Jacob, this is Sasha. He lives with Ántonia in Romania. I asked him to come to Forks with me so he could see different parts of the world."

"Good evening, Jacob," Sasha said with a perfectly polite smile on his face. Unfortunately, I didn't think Jacob was going to fall for any of his charms. "It is nice to meet one of Nessie's good friends."

Jacob didn't even bat an eye. I held his hand a little tighter to try to tell if he was going to phase, but his body remained calm and stoic. Sasha's grin faltered a little as he struggled with what his next move should be. I wondered if someone had shoved him out the door during that particular second, or if Sasha was acting of his own accord, or if just maybe he did accidently interrupt us. In a house of vampires, that's never the case. This wasn't how I wanted my meeting with Jacob to go. I wanted Jake to be pleased to see me. I wanted to share with him all the amazing things I'd learned and seen. And I wanted him to be proud of me. I never imagined this awkward scenario straight out of a bad romantic comedy.

"Jacob and I were about to go for a walk," I lied.

Sasha regained his small smile and nodded in our direction. "Of course. I apologize for interrupting. I will see you in the morning, Nessie."

"Goodnight, Sasha," I murmured.

Sasha gracefully turned and entered the house again. I looked to Jacob, hoping he would be in the mood for a walk. The blank face I had been greeted with reappeared.

"Do you want to—" I started. My question was answered when he dropped my hand and began walking across the lawn at a pace I was unaccustomed to after being with Sasha for so long. I quickly caught up to him but deliberately kept a few steps behind. "Jake, talk to me," I ordered, frightened by his silence.

"What do you want to hear?" he asked sharply without turning around.

"You have to let me explain."

"Then explain away!"

"Look, there's nothing for you to be angry about. There's nothing going on."

Jacob made a noise of indignation, and I knew he was rolling his eyes.

"Sasha and I met in Romania, and we became close friends." _Close friends?_ That probably wasn't the best choice of words. My head was still jumbled by the potential something that occurred between us just now and the confessions I made to my father a couple hours ago. "Good" would have been better. Or something like "travel buddies" would have been sufficient. "Close" suggested something. "Close" was what Jacob and I were. Or, used to be.

Jacob abruptly stopped. He took a breath and flexed the muscles of his arms before he turned back around. I thought I would be glad to argue face-to-face but his anger made me wish I was still looking at his back.

"Friends?" he sneered. "Honestly Nessie, how do you think this looks to me? How would it look to anyone? You run away, disappear for months, cut across the entire globe, and come back with some pale bloodsucker with an accent!"

"No matter how it may look to you, what I'm telling you is what matters. Sasha and I are friends." That time I deliberately left out an adjective. "He hasn't traveled much and I wanted to go home, so it was just a perfect opportunity for him."

"Wow. You know, I never realized what a good liar you were growing up, but give me a little credit."

That one hurt, but he was right. No one realized how good of a liar I was. I didn't entirely realize it myself. There were parts of my life I just couldn't share because I didn't think my loved ones would understand. And now, he was standing here believing I hadn't changed at all. I desperately wanted to prove he was wrong, but in this instance, I wasn't sure what the truth was.

"I'm not lying," I forced out.

"There's really nothing going on?" Jacob could change his emotions so fast it was hard for me to keep up. He had gone from livid to serious in five seconds flat and now he was asking me to comprehend my own confused heart. Unwilling and unable to sort it out within a few seconds, my response matched the confusion I was feeling.

"What does it matter?"

"It matters a lot. Last year I was ready to make a commitment to you. Or don't you remember that?"

"I remember, Jacob," I said in an exasperated tone. Although I'd interrupted his suggestion for my future at the time, one could guess what he would have said had I allowed him to continue.

"And you ran away."

"You threatened to tell my parents! Who you knew wouldn't let me go. That's not what I wanted!"

"You didn't want this? You didn't want Forks?"

"No!"

"And how do you think that made me feel?!"

I paused, trying to slow the conversation. It was hard for me to say the right thing when we were yelling at each other. Then again, I didn't know what the right thing was. I decided to go with the obvious. "Jake, I'm sorry," I said. I didn't want a life in Forks, but he did. And I was part of that plan; the plan everyone expected the moment Jacob's eyes met mine. And there were moments when I wanted it, too, when I thought there could be nothing better. But the expectations became too much. They weighed me down until I felt like I couldn't breathe anymore. None of that had been Jacob's fault but inevitably, he would be the one to suffer the consequences.

Jacob dropped his angry scowl. His face was distraught – as if he was relieving every moment of the last year when he had been alone. But now it was that much worse, because he also had to contemplate that he might always be alone. "You want him, don't you?" Jacob's voice was so low I barely picked up on it. It was absurd that he would jump to such a conclusion after seeing Sasha for no more than a minute. But my actions were speaking so much louder than my words. I had asked Sasha to come with me. I ran from Jacob. I itched to have Sasha touch me. I wanted to pull away when Jacob got close.

I wished I could have had more time to think of an answer. Everything sounded wrong. Every answer would hurt someone, whether it was Jacob or myself.

I should have just lied. Lying would have been easier. "Maybe," I whispered cowardly.

We were silent. I was out of explanations. I was out of rational responses. I think Jacob may have been out of rational thought entirely. My heart ached with every tedious beat. How much punishment was I going to inflict on him? First, he pours out his heart to me, and I react by running away for a year. Then upon my return, I bring someone else with me and admit to having feelings for him, and all the while, Jacob has a magical and seemingly unbreakable attachment to me. It was a wonder he could stand to look at me.

"I'm sorry," I said again. I didn't want to hurt him. Yet, I couldn't think of any way to fix this. To say I didn't have feelings for Sasha would have been a lie, to say I definitely did would have been a lie as well. The way I felt about Jacob was exactly the same – confusing. After all the time I had spent lying to my family, one thing I learned was the importance of truth. Unfortunately, the truth would only hurt Jacob and drive him further away from me.

Jacob kept his eyes to the ground and hurried past me toward his car.

"Jake, wait. Please," I begged. "Jake, you're my best friend." I went to grasp his arm, but he instinctively jerked away, holding his hands out of reach – as if my touch was revolting to him.

"Don't apologize, Nessie. Just…don't," he stuttered. He shoved himself into his car and immediately drove off.

Still standing in the grass, I dropped down to my knees and let my butt hit the ground. The dew soaked through my jeans. I don't know what I was waiting for. He might turn around and drive back or someone from the house might suddenly run out. Then I realized, if this was a year ago and Jacob and I had had a huge fight on the front lawn, someone would have run out the moment our voices were raised. My birthday wish came true. This fight, these decisions, they were all mine. And God, it hurt.


	19. He's Looking Right Through Me

**Chapter V: He's Looking Right Through Me**

The next week in the Cullen household was anything but normal. Every day was another opportunity make up for all the time I spent away from home. Physically, I couldn't make up a year in a week's time, but my family certainly attempted it. It felt like I was constantly talking and when I wasn't, I was being goaded into telling another story.

We played baseball every night and the cheating had never been so blatant. Sasha was mildly interested to see the game in action, but it was a bad first impression because it made it seem like cheating was part of the rules. I had to explain to him that it was not, in fact, legal for the catcher to nail the runner with a bat as he made his way home, as Rosalie and Jasper demonstrated. We actually had to call game at that point because all the equipment was destroyed.

I also had to visit Grandpa Charlie who was absolutely thrilled to see me again. Spending time with him was an unexpectedly guiltless experience. Apparently, my parents told him I was studying abroad, which was true, they just left out the circumstances of my departure.

My parents had not yet mentioned the massive fight I had with Jacob the first night I was back. They didn't need to ask for specifics. They must have heard every word; however, they remained quiet. Perhaps this meant they actually trusted my decision. It was too bad I felt so incredibly guilty about it, not to mention confused. Nonetheless, even a year-long absence wouldn't cure them of meddling entirely. They would bring it up eventually. They cared too much. I figured I would make them be the first to break the silence since I had not yet decided how to fix the rifts I'd created.

Then I had to deal with another admission. I had confessed that I had feelings for Sasha. First to my father and then to Jacob, which meant my mother knew, which meant everybody knew. It made my stomach clench in anxiety to imagine Sasha probably knew, too. Amazingly, no one had brought this up either. I feared they evaded the topic because they were ashamed of me. How could I treat Jacob, someone who so obviously loved and cared about me, so cruelly? How could I go against what imprinting had magically provided me? Every time I conversed with one of my relatives I waited for these questions. I waited for them to accuse me of the callous nature of my actions or the idiocy of rejecting something so special. I attempted to form rebuttals to these eventual allegations. I hadn't yet come up with anything concrete. Maybe that was the point.

The one thing that pleased me was they weren't treating Sasha any differently. Everyone was at least being polite toward him. It was hard not to be nice to him. He was innately kind and fantastically intelligent. He and Carlisle would talk for hours. I would get lost in the depth of their philosophies and histories. He impressed Esme with his skills at painting and promised her a portrait. He'd already beaten Jasper and Emmett at multiple board chess. They were still grumbling over it and promised to organize a tournament for the entire family. Alice was open and excited to spend time with him, even though the fuzziness he caused her sight annoyed her. She even planned outings for the three of us so he could see the sights Washington had to offer and to purchase him his own clothing to wear while he was here. Rosalie was, well, Rosalie. A little cold but basically indifferent and suspicious. My parents were slightly warmer towards him but clearly not as friendly as they would have been under different circumstances.

Once the initial enthusiasm to celebrate my return ebbed, spending time with my family slowly became comfortable and familiar again. I loved to share my stories with everyone, but the part of my day I enjoyed the most were my walks with Sasha. It reminded me of our time spent in Romania; our slow pace filled hour after hour and made the days tick away quickly. The forest around Forks wasn't all that different from the mountains we trekked in Romania, and there were moments when it felt like I was there again. The only difference was how I was the leader of the hikes now. I was sharing my world with him, and his near-constant smile made me deliriously happy. His guilt and his sadness were all but forgotten – maybe even left behind inside the cold, dark walls of the castle. I searched his eyes for a return of the misery that lived inside him, but days passed and nothing came to the surface. His peace granted me peace and made me forget my troubles, which is why he caught me off-guard one day during our walk when he segued onto a highly untouched topic of conversation.

"Why has Jacob not been to visit?"

I stopped in my tracks. Was he going to ask me about my admission of…_feelings_? I wasn't sure what to say about that. It wasn't that I didn't care about Sasha, I would never deny that, but I didn't know what it meant to be in love. Love? How could I even think the word love? I'd only known the kid a little over a month. I suddenly wished I'd read more teenage magazines and less classic literature because Jane Austen simply did not provide a contemporary frame of reference in dealing with this kind of situation. I tried to hide my awkwardness by snapping a rather large branch off a dead tree and breaking it down into a walking stick. "Why do you ask?" I hedged.

"You have been distracted this past week. I believe his absence has been weighing on your mind," he mused in a careful tone.

Had I really been distracted? It felt like I'd done nothing but talk for a week straight. Maybe that was part of what alerted Sasha to my distraction. I was evading all the heavy topics related to my fight with Jacob. Even though Sasha knew very little about our relationship, he still knew Jacob was a significant part of my life, and I'd barely seen him for more than ten minutes since I came home.

"Oh…um…he's mad at me," I mumbled. _Mad?_ Mad wasn't nearly the correct word. Try disappointed or furious or even revolted. I broke the branch over my knee. The physicality of it was cathartic even if breaking it down meant it would only serve as a walking stick for a small child now.

"What happened?" It was awfully polite of him to ask. As if he didn't already know. He walked in on part of it.

"I don't…uh…I don't think I should talk about it."

"Not even with me?" He was smiling, but his eyes were wounded. "Nessie, you have been an invaluable confidante for me. I hoped I would be able to do the same for you."

It took a great deal of time and energy to get Sasha to open up to me, and even though I'd spent weeks answering his questions for me, I didn't tell him every secret. It wasn't until we were in Forks that I told him Jacob was a werewolf. But how could I talk about this with him? He was the very thing that was creating all the drama. Then again, that wasn't entirely accurate. I'd had doubts about Jacob long before I ever met Sasha. I'd never talked that through with anyone, possibly part of the reason I hadn't reached an understanding about it, and here he was offering a willing ear.

"You're not going to let this go," I muttered.

He took a few steps toward me so we were less than an arm's length apart. He took the last of the broken branches out of my hands and threw them in a shallow creek we had been walking along. I watched the sticks float away and felt utterly defenseless without them.

"I will do whatever you prefer," he assured.

It was impossible to deny him, not when he made it so easy and not when I had nothing left to lose anymore. "It was a fight," I admitted enigmatically. He already knew that. "It was…bad. I don't know what to do. It's complicated. I know that sounds like a cop-out, but it's true. It's overwhelmingly true."

Despite my admittance of feelings for Sasha, I couldn't ignore how something had erupted deep in my gut for a few moments when I saw first Jacob – something that I couldn't identify or quantify. It was a pull, or maybe a push, or maybe just some kind of tie that ratcheted us together – a tie that I might have severed when I crushed his heart. As much as I hated myself for doing this to him, it didn't make any sense either. All the other wolf couples were so happy. Aside from Claire and Quil, they had all gone from friends to more than friends with remarkable ease. Why was I so many steps behind? Was it because of Sasha? Or was it because I wasn't meant to be with Jacob? That didn't seem fair at all. Could a wolf be with a person other than his imprint? Before me, no one would have even asked such a question. It was ludicrous.

Sasha knew nothing of these specifics, and I debated whether or not I should tell him. If I did, I would inevitably have to admit that I had feelings for him, something I wasn't ready to do. Not firsthand anyway.

"I wish I could offer you some advice, but I am afraid all my relationship expertise comes from novels. More often than not, they have terribly tragic endings. Not unlike my own love story." The corner of his mouth came up, trying to lift my spirits in his own dark way. I turned away and drifted to a large fallen tree covered in moss. Sasha followed and sat down next to me quite naturally. Feeling exhausted after a week of constant activity, late nights, and now this confusing conversation, I leaned my head against his cool shoulder, which felt natural in its own way. I expected him to tense up like he usually would whenever I touched him. He didn't.

"I miss Romania," I whimpered to him. Things were so much easier there. Truly a solace as Ántonia had called it.

"We could go back," he whispered over the top of my head.

"Great, I'll book the tickets," I teased.

"Why not?" It was hard to tell if Sasha was being sarcastic or not, especially after he had been concerned about my fight with Jacob. Perhaps he was just as anxious for the solitude and simplicity of Romania as I was. Maybe my family was a bit too much for him and his Unabomber tendencies.

"I couldn't do that to my family again. My leaving hurt them. They've been nicer than I deserve."

"But if it is what you want?" he asked. Again, I wasn't sure if he was serious. He knew me. He knew I wouldn't leave in the same manner I left before. Still, the idea wasn't unappealing. Suddenly, my breath stopped and I lifted my head off his shoulder. In this humid forest, amongst the fog and the haze of the rain, one thing became remarkably clear. There was no "if" or "maybe" about my feelings for Sasha. They were real and they were mine. Even though I hadn't confided in him as much as he deserved, there was a large part of my heart that I had shared with him. A part I wanted to give him, whether or not he knew it.

"I don't know," I said as I cleared my throat. "Running away didn't work so well the first time. Everything is worse than when I left."

"Except you. You are different, are you not? A better version of yourself?" he implored quietly. Sasha was the only person here to have witnessed this so-called "better version" of myself. I was far more confident while I was with Ántonia. I felt more like myself when I was with her then I had in my entire life. However, maybe nothing about me had actually changed. Perhaps only the circumstances were different. It was so much easier to think and make mistakes when there weren't any expectations of me. Returning to Forks brought back all the harsh realities I had run away from. I would have to find that confident person in myself once again or I would never be able to solve any of this.

"I'd like to think so." I looked up into his hypnotic blue eyes. They trapped my attention every time and although I once thought of this as awkward, now I simply just enjoyed the way it made my heart jump.

"Then make it so. Everything will fall into place." Sasha made everything sound so easy, so manageable; then again, he wasn't the one who had to face Jacob. One thing my rational side knew was if I wanted to pursue my feelings for Sasha we could never be together as long as my fight with Jacob hung over us. Then again, if I truly had feelings for Jacob then obviously fighting would be an obstacle there as well. My brain was tired of all this thinking so I jumped up from the mossy tree, grabbed Sasha's hand, and pulled him along through the woods.

"Okay, this is too serious. Let's talk about something else. What do you think of Forks?"

"Your family is incredible, monster-girl, everything you described and more. Talking to Carlisle is like talking with Socrates, and Alice is just pure joy."

"I see Aunt Rosalie has been giving you a hard time." I smirked.

"She is a tough nut to crack, is she not?"

"A tough nut. Yeah, that's one way to describe her." I laughed. I let go of his hand so I could quickly hop up a tree and climbed about nine or ten feet. Sasha stayed on the ground and looked up at me. "What do you think of Bella and Edward?" I called down to him.

"Your parents have been quite gracious."

"They're still giving you the cold shoulder, huh?

"You mother has been polite, and your father, well, I believe he becomes a little too frustrated with me to make an honest connection."

I sat down on one of the branches and looked down at him. "What are you talking about?"

"I have been trying to keep my mind closed to anything he might find significant. I think he may be becoming annoyed with me." Annoyed was being too nice. I wondered how long Sasha could keep it up before my father cracked and simply demanded information. I gave him three days.

"I'm glad you're able to protect your mind. It's refreshing. My dad will just have to take it. And I'm sorry my parents aren't being nice to you. They worry."

"I understand."

I jumped nimbly through the tree while Sasha watched, unimpressed by my display. He never was one to be impressed by feats of strength. I stepped off from a branch about twelve feet up and fell gracefully to the ground. Sasha was leaning against the tree I had been climbing and rolled his eyes at me.

"How long do you plan to stay?" I asked breathily.

"Have I worn out my welcome already?" he asked without a smile.

"No, of course not! I just…" Now he was smirking, and it wasn't just any smirk, it was that damn elusive full smile with teeth and dimples and everything. In combination with his eyes and dark hair it made him too good-looking. "You're teasing me aren't you? I never know when you're joking."

"You should pay better attention."

I wasn't sure what he meant by that. Regardless, I walked up to him so we were only inches apart. "If you are homesick or anything I completely understand."

"I was under the impression I was to be your companion as you traveled."

"Yes, I suppose so," I said slowly as I remembered Ántonia's orders, and more specifically, his initial reaction to her orders. First I had to twist his arm to get him to come and now I couldn't convince him to leave. My heart fell at the suggestion. I didn't want him to leave.

"I do not intend to leave until the responsibilities of that position have been fulfilled or if you no longer have need of it. Do you still have need of it?"

I paused and took a breath. Standing this close to him after my new realization had been a mistake. My stomach was in knots and every limb felt lanky and out of place. Was this love? It didn't feel as romantic as I imagined. More than anything it just made me feel…weird; good, but weird. Whatever it was, it was simultaneously exciting and unnerving. I wanted to be closer to him, but I also wanted to hide my face. What kind or reaction is that? "I think so…," I stuttered as I was caught again by his eyes. For a moment I read a trace of relief in them. Before I could know for sure, he glanced away from me and towards some nothingness on the ground.

"Good. Romania would seem quite small without you there."

I didn't know how to respond, so in true awkward teenage fashion, I didn't. Instead, I took a few steps back and began leading the hike again. Sasha followed a few feet behind. Without even looking, I knew he was smiling.

****

Taking Sasha's advice, I summed up all the courage I had and headed toward the reservation. I would have preferred to run but Alice insisted I take my car. She argued it had been sitting in the garage for a year and deserved better treatment than that. It was an XK Convertible or something. I never could pay attention when she started babbling about cars. In fact, all I was thinking about as she described the car's superior characteristics was how well the color of the car seemed to match Sasha's eyes. Although, why she bought me a convertible for Forks was beyond me. I would have to ask her to trade it in for something more practical and then never let her buy me anything ever again. I begrudgingly took the keys and the outlandishly fancy car and made my way down the road. Despite my anticipation, the ride was much shorter than I remembered it. I guess cutting through the woods would take longer than the open highway.

I pulled into the Blacks' driveway and saw Billy sitting on the porch reading the paper. It took him a second to recognize me and he didn't look particularly happy to do so. I felt more nervous to speak to him than I did anyone else, being that he had disapproved of me for the last few years. He didn't look angry, but he didn't look thrilled either – like I was bad news he had been expecting.

"Hi Billy," I said maturely as I approached the front door. I wasn't going to fake any enthusiasm and I was sure he wasn't going to either.

He shook his newspaper closed and gave me an obligatory grin. "Hello, Nessie. It is good to see you home again. How was your trip?" His voice was flat, detached. It was more than I could have hoped for.

"It was amazing. I saw things I never dreamed of."

Billy was silent. I guessed the small talk was over.

"Where is Jacob?"

"In his room, I believe. He's been in there a few days now." That was unlike Jacob. When he was angry he'd run; he never sulked.

"Is it alright if I see him?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

I forgot that Jacob's father lacked the necessary hearing abilities to hear everything that went on in his household. Jacob actually had to tell him things and participate in healthy communication. He must not have been doing so in this case or Billy would have thrown me out on my butt. Despite my ability and my family's ability to hear, communication skills were something I sorely lacked. Maybe it was because of those abilities that I was so poor at expressing myself. Secrets were very precious commodities, and soon, I wouldn't have anymore.

With a nod I walked past Billy into their little house and toward Jacob's room. The door was closed. I knocked quietly and probably unnecessarily since I'm sure he could hear and smell me when I pulled into the driveway.

"Jacob? It's me." A few silent seconds passed before I heard some rustling behind the door. Jacob opened it slowly. He was wearing a pair of sweats and a worn black t-shirt. He looked exhausted. Perhaps a few days of angry running had tired him out.

I searched for the reaction I had that first night I saw him. I waited for the butterflies in my stomach or the constriction of my chest. It didn't come. I wasn't devoid of emotion however. My heart was aching as the things I was about to tell him floated around in my head. Why did it have to be this way? Maybe it wouldn't be. Maybe I was approaching this the wrong way. Maybe imprinting would fix everything. Jacob could just be happy for me and be my best friend. If that was what I needed, that's what he would be, right?

"Hi. How are you?" I choked out.

"Fine. What do you want?" he responded in the same unsettling and lifeless way he had when I first saw him.

"I want to talk to you."

"About what?"

"About us." I noticed him raise an eyebrow. The topic must have piqued his interest. He turned back into his room without another word, but since he didn't slam the door in my face I took it as my cue to follow. His room was clean aside from the dirty clothes on the floor. I stepped around the clothing. He sat in a chair at an unused desk. A year ago, I would have sat on the bed across from him, but today I decided to stand.

"Jake, this is hard for me to say. It's hard for me to think. You mean so much to me. Please tell me you know that." It was difficult to keep my eyes on his face when his was so empty. I hoped it would make a crucial difference. Hopefully, he would see in my eyes the sincerity of my words.

He silently nodded and bit his lip. Unfortunately, he wasn't looking me in the eye. Was he even listening?

"It would make me heartsick to lose you. Of that much I'm sure."

"You would be sad to lose me?" he asked quickly as his lifeless eyes shot to me. Even with the lack of energy in them they still managed to rip though me. It killed me he would even ask such a question.

"Of course I would! It breaks my heart now to stand here and have you hating me so much," I confessed.

"I don't hate you, Nessie. I could never hate you," he said calmly, ignoring my emotional outburst.

"Good. I could never hate you either."

"But could you love me?" he asked with what I sensed was skepticism.

I answered without thinking about the question too hard, I didn't really need to. "I do love you, Jacob." It was true. I knew it was true. Jacob was special and important to me. He was so easy to love. He was a wonderful, caring person who would have done anything to protect me. I let myself consider my questions once more. In what way did I love Jacob? Was it the same as Sasha? Was it different? Was it better? I'd been asking myself those questions for months, now I had to consider the answers.

Jacob stood up. God, he was tall. It strained my neck to look up at him. "You do? Are you sure? Because your actions seem to imply otherwise."

"I don't want to talk about him. I want to talk about us. I want to fix this. We have to stay friends."

"Friends?" Jacob paused. The silence was uneasy. "Friends…," he repeated. He said as if it was a word in a foreign language. He walked over to his dresser and opened the top drawer. He pulled out a small square black box. He stepped back in front of me, only six inches separating us. He spread his stance shoulder-width apart and held out the box between his thumb and fingers. "Go ahead. Take it," he commanded.

My breath started to quicken and my heart was pounding into my ribcage and not in a good way. Although I didn't feel the initial pull I had a few nights ago, I remembered this feeling. It was that feeling of being overwhelmed, of being too close. If there was anything in the world of which I was sure certain it was that I did not want to open that box. He pushed it at me again and lifted his eyebrows in encouragement. Feeling trapped, I took the fuzzy black box.

"Open it."

I swallowed as the hinge on the box creaked when I opened it. I wasn't surprised by what I saw. The box was a pretty big clue as to what it was. Sitting there, surrounded by white velvet, was a diamond engagement ring. It was small, evidence my father didn't have anything to do with it. Yet it was special and very sweet and probably cost every penny Jacob had to his name. "I got it for your birthday last year," he mumbled.

"I didn't know," I stammered. Small boxes. How I despised small boxes.

"Nessie, I can't be your friend. You say I mean a lot to you? You mean _everything_ to me. It was so painful when you ran away I couldn't be in the pack. I wasn't allowed to phase! I was basically banished because it was too agonizing for anyone else to be in my head! Damn imprinting…," he whispered the last part to himself.

He couldn't even phase? Oh God, what had I done to him? I had begun to believe there was nothing good about imprinting, at least in our case. Jake must have as well. What was the point to being magically connected when all I did was hurt him? This pain he was feeling, it wasn't right. That's not how I had been told imprinting worked. What were we doing wrong?

My hand was shaking as I stared at little sparkling ring. This is what imprinting was supposed to lead to. This was the life I was supposed to want. Hell, this was what every girl was supposed to want. A handsome, caring, and trustworthy man was expressing his desire to marry me; to provide me with a happy and safe life. I should have been flattered. I should have been elated.

I felt ill.

It wasn't because I had just recently realized my feelings for Sasha. If Sasha had suddenly asked me to marry him I would have reacted the same way. Jacob and I had never dated. We'd barely been adults at the same time. Why would I want to be married and tied down at seven years old? I could ask the exact same question of myself were I twenty-one like I appeared. I'd only begun to live my life. For years I had been wishing for a way out of this town, out of this sheltered life. Somehow, I just knew that this wasn't enough, that there was something else meant for me. It wasn't until Ántonia came into my life that this feeling transformed into something real. I didn't want to be married and I really didn't want to be made to feel like I was wrong for feeling that way. But of course, it couldn't be as simple as that. Because of imprinting it would never be simple. "This is a beautiful gesture, but I can't accept it." I closed the box and placed it on the corner of the desk. My hand was still shaking so I held it with my other hand to try and calm myself.

"Because of him…," he muttered.

"This has nothing to do with him," I stated. And despite evidence to the contrary, I knew it was true. I thought back to my reaction when Jacob offered himself to me the day after my birthday. Had my reaction been any different from what it was now? "If you had asked me the same question last year I would have had the same response. This imprinting…why does it have to mean _Romeo and Juliet_?"

"I can't control how it works."

I found it hard to believe the depth of the feelings he expressed to me. I knew they were real, but the words he used were unfathomable to me. I meant "everything" to him? Did he even know what that meant? I didn't. I wasn't like either of my parents who both fell in love on sight of one another. I'd only just discovered the reality of my feelings for Sasha. How could Jacob come to such conclusions about me when I didn't feel the same way about him? Despite my guilt, despite imprinting staring me in the face, I couldn't fight this anymore. I couldn't make myself feel the way I was _supposed_ to feel. Maybe we were flawed. Maybe _I_ was one who was flawed. But I knew what I wanted and it wasn't what Jake just offered to me in a little black box. "You can understand how _I_ work. You know I don't want to settle down yet, and I know you well enough to know you're not ready for that either."

"I've been around a lot longer than you."

"In human years maybe. Look, you have to start taking some consideration of the things I _need_, not the things you _think_ I need. Right now, I need a friend." I said it out loud. Maybe that would make a difference. Perhaps that would take away all the unrequited feelings and just let him be happy. I waited for a change in Jacob's demeanor. Nothing happened. He just stood there.

"I can't, Nessie," he breathed painfully.

I took a quick glance at the ring box again thinking it might have greater significance. I took in its shape. I imagined the sweet, sparkling ring inside. I imagined him placing it on my finger and I willed myself to want it. Nothing happened. I couldn't make myself be in love with him even if it was what everyone expected and believed. There had been times I'd believed in the destiny too. In those moments when it was just me and Jake racing through the backyard, or when we laid out under the night sky and counted the stars. Some nights, I'd go bed hoping when I woke up I would feel the same undeniable pull he did. It would have made everything I thought or felt so much easier. I wouldn't live with this confusion and Jacob wouldn't have to endure this hell. Perhaps it had happened, but fate may have pulled me somewhere I didn't expect.

"Okay…," I said quietly. I turned and strategically stepped over his mounds of clothing. Part of me, the part that loved Jacob, was telling me to turn back, to fight harder and to make him understand I still needed him. I did turn to him again when I reached the doorframe, but I didn't fight. It wouldn't make things better to fight because there wasn't anything to win. "Goodbye, Jake."

I walked back to my car at a calm, human pace. Somehow, I found the muscles which formed a smile for Billy as I passed him. He didn't smile back, just looked at me in a stoic and knowing manner. Is this why he hated me? Because he knew what I would eventually do to his son? He was the only one to predict it and I hoped he'd prepared a way to comfort Jacob now that it happened.

I put my key in the ignition and left the reservation. I noticed I wasn't crying. Perhaps because there was nothing left to be done. It was the simplest of all break-ups. We wanted different things.


	20. I Wish I Didn't Have to

**Chapter VI: I Wish I Didn't Have to Make All Those Mistakes and Be Wise **

I sat in my car for about twenty-five minutes after I parked in the garage. I messed with the computer in the dashboard for a while. My music was already programmed into it. Alice had already added playlists with titles like "Music that makes you Smarter" and "Music that makes you Drive too Fast" and "Music that Annoys your Father". She'd also needlessly programmed the GPS with my favorite locations. I didn't need the directions considering the furthest location was Seattle and I could easily recall how to get there. I'd been so many places since I received this car as a gift and none of them were on the list. She'd bookmarked a used bookstore in Olympia, a theatre in Port Angeles, and the camping grounds in Olympic National Park. And the beach. Of course, the beach. The beach on the reservation I just left. I'd shared a hundred walks with Jacob on that beach. He taught me how to swim and surf there. He, along with both my parents, each had an unwarranted panic attack when I jumped off a cliff the other pack members would jump from. This stupid expensive car suddenly felt far too compact and I barely pulled the key out of the ignition before I threw myself out. I may have damaged the door with the force I inflicted upon it.

My chest constricted painfully as I walked into the main house. I ran from the car because of the memories thinking of La Push forced into my head, but even the living room of my grandparent's home brought forth recollections of my childhood with Jacob. The game board where we played chess. The couch where we watched and bickered over trashy television shows. Everything was Jacob.

Clutching my scalp until I caused kinks in my naturally curly hair, I sank down to the floor, leaning against the coffee table to stay upright. I focused solely on my breathing, using every ounce of strength not to cry. I didn't deserve to cry. I didn't even deserve to feel sad about this. I was the one who did the breaking. I ran the rationale through my head over and over, but it didn't stop my eyes from burning with tears. I wasn't just losing a brother, a best friend, or a boyfriend. I was losing something I couldn't even define. But that never meant I wanted to hurt him. It never meant I wanted to eradicate him from my life. When I left this morning, I never intended to decide what Jacob was to me, but that was essentially what I had done. It hurt like hell.

I heard the soft scuffle of my mother's well-worn Converse against the wood floor. She was the only one in the family who could get away with wearing such well-used shoes. She stopped giving any interest in Alice's fashion advice long ago. She gasped and flew to my side when she found me doubled-over on the floor.

"Renesmee? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I lied. I couldn't hide my red face but I managed to keep my voice from cracking.

"What's going on? Didn't you go to the reservation this morning?" she asked urgently.

"Yes." I coughed.

"What happened? Is Jacob okay?"

"He's fine." It wasn't a complete lie. Alright? Okay? Fine? They're all generic and relative terms.

"Was he still angry?"

My suspicions were confirmed. She finally acknowledged Jacob was angry with me, which meant she knew exactly what I had done to him the night he visited. I tried to imagine what she thought I would accomplish by going to see him this morning. Did she envision Jacob returning with me hand in hand? He'd give her a platonic kiss on the cheek then bust right into a dig on Aunt Rosalie right before sharing a joke with Uncle Jasper. Did she think everything would just go back? Or did she think or did she hope it would be something more?

"He proposed to me," I whispered.

"Oh, Nessie," she breathed. She touched my shoulder and pushed my long hair back. She didn't sound all that surprised, but why should she? She'd been preparing herself for this since I was born. And while it wasn't exactly a proposal, it might as well have been. Jake may have not asked a question, but nevertheless I gave him an answer.

"What did you say?" she asked. Despite my obvious distress, there was a faint glimmer of hope in her eyes. She _did_ think my visit would have become something more than reconciliation. She must have known Jacob had that stupid ring since my birthday. Not only had I rejected Jacob, but I was rejecting all the hopes and dreams my mother held for me. The hurt this decision caused was spreading like a plague.

"I said no, Mom." I ran the back of my hand under my nose, my tears finally coming to a halt.

She was very still as she sat on the coffee table. Her eyes were steady but she wasn't looking directly at me. She was thinking. I prepared myself for the inevitable why and how. I expected her to berate my character and the callous way I handled the situation. I would sit and take it because it was all true.

"Nessie, there's something I should tell you. It's about Jacob and me."

I lifted my chin from chest to find her eyes to be uncharacteristically nervous. I nodded encouragingly.

"Before you were born, before your father and I were married, your father left me for my protection. He believed his presence in my life was too dangerous. While he was gone, Jacob and I grew very close. Spending time with him was the only thing I looked forward to for months." My mother and Jacob had always been close friends. She preferred his company over everyone excluding my father. Their relationship was a something I grew up with and simply didn't question. Naïvely, I'd never even considered an alternative to what their relationship was or how it got to be that way.

My mother kept her eyes off me as she continued to speak. "During that time Jacob he…he kind of…fell for me," she stuttered. "Not in the same way he loves you, but he believed he was in love. And eventually, I felt the same way about him. It was difficult, because I loved your father more than anything and when he came back into my life I wanted to be with him, but I still had feelings for Jacob."

_What?_ I was too stunned to even ask the question aloud. She had feelings for Jacob, _my_ Jacob? He was in love with her? I knew they'd known each other since they were kids. Was this the reason the imprint went so wrong? Jacob was supposed to love my mother, not me? I threw that thought away. That didn't make any sense. None of this did. Bella loved Edward and Jacob loved me. Those were the two absolute unquestionable truths I had come to know in my lifetime. But if one were to take Edward and me out of the equation, what was left? I supposed it didn't matter because I firmly believed Edward would never be taken out of the equation again. I'd been taken out of the equation and I was unsure if I would be part of it again.

Shaken by my silence, she held out her hand to me, palm up, expecting me to take it and share my thoughts with her. I'd been silent for much of my early childhood, so it was a logical assumption to make; however, I kept still and refused. I didn't want to share these thoughts with her. She had kept this from me and it was just making me more confused. I may have disliked my parent's restrictions on my freedom growing up, but this was something else entirely. It was bad enough they expected me to be with Jacob because of the imprint, but what did this information of the past add to their expectations? Did they think I should be with him to make up for how my mother rejected him? Was I to be some kind of atonement? This didn't feel like destiny; it felt like a manipulation. The thought made my stomach churn. Then I felt something I hadn't felt in a long time. It was boiling up in me rapidly.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked through my clenched jaw.

"I'm telling you this because I know what it is to love two people at the same time," she answered quickly.

Oh. Right. I was so fixated on the fact that she'd hidden this part of her relationship with Jacob that I didn't connect the dots that matched my situation with hers. But it wasn't the same thing. She didn't understand. I did love two people at the same time, but I didn't love them in the same way. And that wasn't even the reason I was rejecting Jacob's offer. "I didn't say no because of Sasha," I said lowly.

"Please try to understand, the way Jacob feels about you could never be matched by anyone. Just like your father and me."

I flinched angrily. The frustration was rising quickly. "For the last time, Mom, this isn't about Sasha, this isn't about Jacob's imprinting, and it _especially_ is not about you and Dad!"All past events aside, she wasn't getting it. I was unsure if anyone would get it at this point. I didn't run away so I could fall in love with someone else. I didn't even run because I felt sheltered or because Jacob was pushing something on me I wasn't ready for. All those things added to it of course, but that wasn't the core reason I was compelled to leave. Maybe I didn't even realize it until I'd already gone. I hated to admit I'd experienced a cliché like "finding myself" but it was truly the best way to explain it. A small life of hiding and placating to human constructs was something I didn't want. And after the peace I had discovered through exploring the world with Ántonia, I learned not only of what I was capable, but also learned what kind of life I wanted to create for myself. I didn't exactly know where my place was yet, but it seemed whatever imprinting was supposed to provide didn't fit into that.

"Then what is it about?" she asked.

I stood up and scrubbed my hands over my face. She didn't even move. She just waited patiently for my response. I was barely breathing as I tried to speak slowly to counteract the building frustration. "Jacob wants to settle down. He has to stay with the pack. He wants to have a family in Forks."

"That's not what you want?"

"I need you to understand. I'm not trying to hurt anyone. I know Jacob loves me, but I can't do what you're asking of me." No matter how much this hurt me, or hurt Jacob, I couldn't lie to him. I couldn't lie to myself.

"I know it's confusing, but you can't close yourself off to this, to him. It's too important."

"I'm not closing myself off. I tried to fix things with Jacob. I told him I wanted to be friends and he said he couldn't do that."

"How could you expect him to after the way you've treated him?" she said bitingly. As prepared as I was for a rebuking from any of my family members, the building frustration didn't allow me to accept it patiently. Yes, I had been cruel to Jacob by leaving without a warning, but I wasn't entirely to blame for our failing relationship. At least I tried to fix things. Jacob wasn't putting in any effort. It was either everything or nothing for him.

"So Jacob can be a jerk to me but I have to be perfect for him?" I argued.

"You can at least show him a little kindness."

"It wasn't a matter of being unkind; it's simply a matter of being honest with myself."

She stood up and folded her arms in across her chest. My mother was barely a half-inch taller than me so this probably didn't appear much like a mother/daughter argument. "So you're finally being honest? Please, enlighten me," she said sarcastically.

"I already told you. I didn't want the life Jacob offered to me."

"And what kind of life is that? A life with us? A life with your family who shelters you and protects you? Here's the truth, Nessie. We protect you because we love you."

Laying on the love angle. She was just trying to get me to feel guilty. "I know that, but I don't need to be protected," I insisted. "That's something I learned by being on my own."

"Don't be so naïve. As much as I hated the circumstances, you were well-protected the entire time."

My teeth ground together as I exhaled loudly through my nose. She was belittling my entire experience and she still saw me as a child and nothing else. Maybe it wasn't a matter of me changing to better my home life. Maybe it was all a matter of her changing. "There's more for me than this," I muttered.

"More for _you_? What about us? What about Jacob?"

"I've said more than once how sorry I am."

"It's not enough to be sorry. You have to grow up and take responsibility. You don't understand. You don't know what it was like…" She pressed her fingers over her eyes and took a few breaths. The guilt washed over me for the thousandth time. I had hurt them by leaving and I was still managing to hurt everyone when I came back. It was impossible for everyone to be satisfied, not unless I put things back to the way they used to be. I could send Sasha back to Romania. I could accept Jake's ring and his love. I could be safe and maybe even happy, but I would never be satisfied. It was either take what I wanted and hurt everyone around me, or give everyone what they wanted and hurt myself.

I sunk down to sit on the armrest of a sofa chair. "Mom, just because I don't want to be with Jacob doesn't mean I haven't grown up. If anything, it means the opposite."

"Jacob was meant for you and you—"

"Jacob imprinted on me! _I_ did not imprint on _him_!" I surprised myself with my shouting, especially after the conversation had momentarily lulled. I had never raised my voice to my mother, not like this. I might have felt embarrassed or ashamed if the frustration had allowed it. I just couldn't be told what I was "meant for" anymore. Those expectations were limiting. It was all coming back to the original frustration. I wanted to decide the course my life would take. "I'm sorry," I reiterated. "I don't want to hurt Jacob, but I never promised him anything. We're not engaged, or promised, we're not even a couple. We're just some kind of weird expectation – like a betrothal I had no part in."

"It's not like that. Imprinting is more than a betrothal, it's an unbreakable bond," she pleaded with me. She was standing very still, barely moving. I was on my feet shifting my weight from side to side and moving my hands without a purpose. I felt a little self-conscious about the way I was so physically affected by my emotions while my mother could be so still and calm.

"Maybe it's not an unbreakable bond." I shrugged my shoulders emphatically. If this morning proved anything, it was that imprinting was, in fact, quite breakable. "Maybe, it's just a way for the wolf pack to continue to grow stronger. What could be stronger than a half vampire?"

"That's an awful thing to say," she spat at me.

"Then why don't I feel anything more?" I said harshly. It wasn't the only thing I felt. I was leaving out the painful way my heart pounded when I had driven home from the reservation and the way my body had commanded me to fight for Jacob. I couldn't tell her those things right now or she'd only tell me to go back to him.

"You can't lead me to believe this has nothing to do with Sasha."

I should have seen this coming. Jacob had brought it up as well. "Sasha has never even thought to come in between Jacob and me."

"Really? He never put the thought in your head? Or out of you head?"

"What are you insinuating?" I snapped.

"Before you left you were infatuated with Jacob and now you're treating him like dirt."

No. It didn't matter what kind of past she had with Jacob or my father or any guy before I was born. Accusing me of behaving badly was one thing. I knew I deserved it. I'd been saying that since I came back to Forks. However, Sasha deserved nothing. She wasn't allowed to touch him, let alone make assumptions about him. I discovered him. I took care of him. He was mine.

"Sasha would never use his ability to hurt me," I said calmly, but forcefully.

"If that's true then you have a lot to answer for. You have no place to treat Jacob so coldly. Not after everything he's done for us."

"I said I wanted to be friends and he said no. I'm not going to be with him just for the sake of being with him."

"Jacob has been a friend to this family for a long time. He has loved you patiently and completely for the entire time he's known you. You are never going to find that in anyone else."

"You don't know that," I mumbled.

"What can I do to make you recognize what you're missing? Sasha is a nice man, but he will never be able to offer the special bond Jacob can." she whined.

I jumped up from my seat. "Mom! I'm not in love with Jacob!" I practically shook with the severity of my words. My mother actually took a step back. Her eyes seemed to glaze over. She understood. She finally understood. Despite all the complications my feelings caused, this truth was quite simple. I wasn't in love with him. To be honest, I wasn't sure if Jacob was really in love with me either. Sure, he loved me, but there was so much he didn't know about me since I came back. There was someone else who did. "Sasha knows me," I nearly whispered. "He knows my favorite books, my favorite paintings. He knows what I'm thinking without my having to show him. Isn't that a special bond as well?"

My mother didn't offer a response. Her defenses were weakening.

"I can't make up for your relationship with Jacob, not when I don't feel the same way he does. I don't know why the imprinting hasn't affected me like it has Emily and Kim, but there's more for me. I know it." For nearly everyone else, imprinting had been a painless process. The wolf found the girl, he fell in love, and the girl loved him back. I was a very simple concept. In reality, it hadn't worked out that way for Jacob and me. Maybe I was broken. Maybe being a half creature, something not part of any world fully, was preventing me from loving Jacob like I was supposed to. Then again, maybe it was all just as simple as the wolf stories, but with a different kind of ending. It seemed like Jacob didn't have a choice in who he would love, but I still did. Despite the unfairness to Jacob, I wasn't bound to any magical connection. In our story, the wolf found the girl, he fell in love, and the girl, well, she wanted something more, and then someone else entered her life. The question to consider of course, which was probably floating through my mother's head: what happened to the wolf?

"I don't want you to regret giving up on this."

I was only seven years old and my life was already full of regrets. I regretted hurting my family, I regretted hurting Jacob, I regretted my communication skills, and I regretted this whole argument. Whatever my destiny was supposed to be, this was the reality, and in truth, I didn't regret it.

"I won't." I brushed past my mother and out the back door. I did the only thing that made sense. I ran. I ran so hard the forest around me blended into a range greens and browns. I had no plan. I paid no attention to my sense of direction. I just needed to move, fly, escape from the anger and the lies and the truth and the pain it inflicted.

I stopped when I hit the lake. The one I found Ántonia sitting beside a little over a year ago. I wished she were here. For as vague and enigmatic as she was, she always had a way of making things clear when they were important. She never would have told me to fall into the expectations of others. She would have told me to study my heart and learn how to recognize my true feelings. It had taken me a year to do so and the consequences were throwing my entire family into disarray.

The surface of the water was eerily still. I could see my reflection. My hair was a mess after my rapid sprint. My cheeks were flushed and my eyes slightly puffy. I looked very much like a girl, not the woman I claimed to be.

"What are you staring at?" someone said behind me.

I spun around immediately and moved into a half-crouch position, my instinct taking over. Sasha was not more than three yards from me. He couldn't have followed me. I was moving much faster than he could.

"Don't do that!" I shouted at him. He had to be one of the only creatures who had ever successfully snuck up on me on more than one occasion. And he couldn't even move at a third of speed I could. It was irritating.

"I did not mean to alarm you. You are easily distracted."

"I have a lot on my mind," I snapped back at him. He somehow managed to ignore my spiteful reaction, accepting it with a somber nod. I didn't know why I decided to keep antagonizing him. "What are you doing out here?!"

"I was just on a walk. It took me forty minutes to cover what you did in sixty seconds."

He was exaggerating. I rolled my eyes. "You shouldn't be out here alone," I added, thinking of the wolves and how Sasha was still a stranger to them. Speaking those words, I suddenly felt very much like my mother and father. Where the hell did that come from?

"Well, now I have you here, so I am perfectly safe." He sauntered to my side, picking up a few stones along the way. He gracefully sent them across the lake. Once again, I lost myself in the distraction. I felt, more than saw, him move closer to me. "Is everything alright, monster-girl?"

"Yes," I said faintly while staring over the lake. The word came out automatically in the same fashion it did for the first six years of my life. I had been lying for so long it was practically engrained into me. I could even force my mind to follow the lies. How else could I have kept my father in the dark? Lying was much easier then I had thought. I subconsciously taught myself how to do it. They had to teach me how to act like a human and I taught myself to pretend I was happy. It wasn't as if I was the first daughter to keep things from her parents, but it had much greater significance in my family. Now that I was no longer pretending, my world was unraveling around me. The truth had a much harder time coming out. It was loud and immature and hurtful.

"I overheard you and your mother," he said softly. This admission caused me to glance up at him. I didn't think fast enough to hide my horror. Sasha looked down at me sheepishly. "I thought I should give you some privacy."

"What did you hear?" I asked.

"Not a great deal. It sounded like you were arguing."

"We were," I acknowledged. It would have been pointless to deny it.

"What about?"

"Jacob." I sighed.

"He proposed to you," Sasha said quietly, like it was something he shouldn't have known. He shouldn't have, but in all the yelling there was no way he could have helped overhearing.

"So you heard that part?" I stalled.

"Yes."

I stepped away from him and stopped at the very edge of the lake. The water was barely rolling in. I held back a sniffle. I couldn't look at him. Once I admitted everything, once he found out what a terrible person I was, he wouldn't want to be with me anymore. He wouldn't stay. If he left me with my back turned, at least I wouldn't have to watch him leave. I waited to hear the sound of his footsteps.

"Why did you say no?" I heard him say instead.

I kept my eyes on the water. "I'm not ready to get married. That's not what I want."

I heard his feet scrape against the rocky edge of the lake. He drew very close to me, in a somewhat awkward way. He was definitely crossing the lines of conventional personal space. Still, I noticed his silly idiosyncrasies were just as intact as they were in the castle; he kept his hands in his pockets to avoid accidently touching. Oddly, he kept his eyes away from mine. Usually, he'd use eye contact like a weapon to render me nervous. He folded his lips inward before he spoke. "Are you not ready to get married or are you not ready to marry Jacob?"

I was surprised by his question. He knew how confused I was about my feelings for Jacob. Why did he need the distinction?

"Does it matter?"

"Yes. It matters a great deal," he said slowly. He pulled his hands from his pockets and took one of my hands. It felt so much different to have him touch me this time. Before, it had been about the comfort and reassurance we could give each other. Now, there was something else. In all my recent revelations about the feelings I was developing for Sasha, I hadn't yet considered what I may have meant to him. I knew I was his friend, but his refusal to leave, the concern my parents had, and the question he was asking now, what did it all mean? Could he…?

"What if I said it's both?" I hedged.

"That would matter a great deal as well," he answered lowly.

He began to lean his weight ever so slightly towards me. My breathing increased involuntarily. He was so close, but it wasn't close enough. He lifted one of his hands to my hover over my face, barely a hair's distance from my skin. He knew what he was doing. It kept me perfectly still. I knew better than to make a sudden movement when he was concentrating so hard on touching me, or in this case, not touching me. Just when he was close enough for me to feel his breath fan across my lips, I had to speak, only because after everything I went through today I couldn't bear to break one more promise. "I promised…my father…," I panted. "I wouldn't do anything to be at fault."

"I did not promise, Nessie." His voice was husky and low and so impossibly alluring. I stopped breathing. I stopped thinking. All I could do was close my eyes and stand completely motionless as he leaned forward the last inch to press his cold lips against my blushing, hot face.

Half a second later, I heard a wolf's howl tearing across the landscape in deafening pain.


	21. And I Know that You Can't Do it All

**Chapter VII: And I Know that You Can't Do it All **

It wouldn't take a genius to realize what all the howling had been about. Jacob was out in the woods. He saw us. He must not have liked what he saw; so much so that he lost control and burst into wolf form while he was essentially still banned from phasing. Now, the wolves would know everything. My parents found Sasha and me standing in the woods only a few seconds after we heard the initial scream. It wasn't required of me to explain what happened. Sasha and I were in the woods, alone, with an ex-boyfriend howling in pain. The math adds itself up. The four of us went on a search for Jacob throughout our property and the reservation, but we didn't find him. My mother called Seth and he said Jake was out of reach. I couldn't help thinking he may have just been out of _our_ reach. The wolves believed in solidarity like that. I learned this wasn't the first time Jake had done something like this. It was becoming more and more likely the only thing my family was meant to inflict on him was torture.

My mother was devastated. I didn't even want to think about what the pack thought of me. There was absolutely no one in my life left to hurt. Despite all the guilt I felt, the thing I wondered about most was what Jake had been doing out there in the first place. Was he going to fight for me? Was he going to ask to be friends? Was he going to tell me off once and for all? One thing I knew, I would rather have him hating me for the rest of my life if I knew he was safe than to have him love me from an unknown distance.

In spite of our worry, time passed. Jacob didn't return and inevitably, things slowly wound back to be relatively normal. As my parents were already well-aware, even when the most terrible thing one can imagine happens, time doesn't stop. We filled our time much the same way we did before I left. Most hours of the day were spent reading, talking, going for drives, that sort of thing. Nights were spent listening to music or playing midnight baseball games. At the same time, things were decidedly tense. My mother was basically giving me the silent treatment. She didn't say much in my presence beyond the usual pleasantries. I also had yet to apologize, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I simply didn't feel that I was wrong. No one else stepped in to break the tension either. I concluded that my father must have instructed that our argument was to remain between mother and daughter. I appreciated that and let my father know this from time to time.

What made the situation just that much worse was how terribly my parents were handling the transition of my relationship with Sasha. I would argue that we were being respectful. We only held hands or sat together on the sofa when in the presence of others, and that was basically all the time. My aunts and uncles were supportive and sweet, but it was also obvious new rules were set up behind my back. Whenever Sasha and I had a moment to ourselves it would be interrupted by someone. I found it incredibly annoying, even worse than when I was constantly babysat before I ran away. What happened to all the pride they had felt in my accomplishments? What happened to trusting my decisions? Apparently, when it comes to the first boyfriend, any amount of trust is tossed out the window.

The only reason I didn't tell them all to get out of our hair was because Sasha insisted I keep my mouth shut. Not that those were his exact words; he was much more eloquent than that. He claimed that with time they would trust us. Thank God for his patience because about three weeks after Jacob's disappearance, Sasha and I finally found ourselves alone in the cottage for the first time. That was the night I discovered my favorite part of this new relationship. I hoped my parents would notice how innocent it was, if only to assuage their worry somewhat. I wore a comfy pair of pajamas, which were really just a t-shirt and shorts, snuggled up against him and fell asleep as we read _The Portable Dorothy Parker_. I just couldn't stand to read a romantic drama at the moment, even if they were Sasha's favorite. It made me regret how we spent nearly all our time in Romania, only because had I been a little less dense we could have been doing this much sooner.

And Sasha. He was the only good thing to come out of this mess. If there was any part of that awful day that I didn't regret, it was that moment standing by the lake when Sasha showed me how much he wanted me. And I realized very soon after, that he'd always been showing me, since the moment we met. It was in the way he touched me, in the way he refused to touch me, when he shared secrets, when he protected mine, when he listened and learned and was on my side. I'd been so focused on myself and everything I was confused about that I almost missed something so astoundingly clear. Sasha cared about _me_. And I was more than willing to let him.

We continued the ritual of reading and falling asleep every night, and every morning I was always disappointed when I woke in my bed, probably seen to by my father, but I carried on happily knowing I would have the opportunity all over again. My mother still didn't approve of any of it, and I knew I couldn't ignore the situation entirely, so I took steps to heal our relationship. First, I got Alice, Jasper, Rosalie, and Emmett out of the house. I persuaded them to take a trip east after a few days of encouragement. They deserved the vacation. They had all been cooped up in the house the entire year I was gone. I had a hard time convincing them, and I'm sure a portion of it was because of the part they were supposed to play in keeping an eye on me, but eventually they agreed. With them gone, I could concentrate on genuinely getting my parents acclimated to this new situation. It was the kind of thing they had always planned on getting adjusted to; except, instead of Sasha they had always thought it would be Jacob.

Having half the family gone also made it much easier to have some time with Sasha. We had our own moments of awkward transition to worry about. That kiss by the lake was definitely not to be our last. But since this was completely new to both of us, we still had to suffer through the learning curve to figure out what was comfortable. There were a few bumped noses and unsure pauses. It was far from perfect, but every part of it was wonderful. It was so special to be a part of the effervescent love that every other member of the family exuded on a constant basis.

Love? Should I be thinking about love? It had only been a little over two months since I met him. I knew my parents understood the word love the moment they met, but I don't think I was built that way. I realized I had asked myself that same question a month ago.

"Monster-girl, I have a proposition for you."

I was snapped from my internal conversation. I was lying against the cool grass on the bank of the river. Sasha was sitting next to me. The air was misty and it made my hair even curlier than usual. Although it was just the two of us sitting on the bank, we weren't really alone. We were in direct sight of the house. I wanted to go further into the woods, but Sasha insisted we stay nearby. He was less enthusiastic than I was to push our new freedoms. I was amazed by how willing he was to comply with my parent's unofficial rules, irritating as I believed them to be. Every time I argued, he would simply tell me to be patient and explained that he refused to risk losing any time to spend with me. I explained to him that my parents had no place keeping surveillance on us in the first place, but since things were still in bad shape with my mother, I reluctantly agreed.

"What might that be?" I asked with a bright smile.

"The weather will be cooling off quite soon, will it not?"

"Yes, snow, ice, slush. It's a mess."

"I was thinking perhaps we could head to a warmer climate." In reality, the winter months were much better suited for my family. We had a much easier time being in public when we could cover our skin entirely and didn't have to worry about the sun. Then again, I had never been allowed to leave the estate or the reservation so it never had been a prominent concern for me. I was very curious as to what he was thinking.

"What did you have in mind?" I inquired.

"Australia, perhaps."

"Australia?" I laughed. He didn't. He was serious? "That's quite a bit of direct sunlight and I'm still more shimmery than the average human."

"Yes, I realize this; however, it is a place neither of us has been before. You have a much larger percentage of the world covered than I do." Much of the time we spent together for the past few weeks had been about discussing everything there was left to know about each other. There wasn't much left for Sasha to learn about me, but there was a vast amount of information to learn about Sasha. Some of the most oddly fascinating information was learning what kind of things he had done to fill his time while living alone. In addition to painting, sculpting, and reading, he also admitted to learning to juggle, learning to sew—apparently he designed his own clothing—studying Latin, Greek, and Russian, learning to play traditional Romanian instruments such as the taragot, the cimpoi, the kaval, the cobza, and the violin, re-reading anything by Tolstoy as many times as he could stand, and on one particularly boring evening, counting the number of stones which made up the castle walls. There were 109,286 stones.

If we were to travel together, it wouldn't just be about informing the other of what they didn't yet know, we could build experiences together. What kind of magical creatures could be awaiting us in Australia? Something aboriginal I would suspect. My mind whirled with the prospect of heading out on a trip with him. He was more naïve than I was about the world and I was anxious to be with him when he experienced new things. Sadly, the initial thrill only lasted a few moments. I often used Sasha as a way to escape my problems, successfully I might add, but responsibility quickly reentered my mind. I sat up and wrapped my arms around my knees.

"I don't think I can," I said plainly. He nodded without a word. He rarely fought me on anything. Yet he seemed to win more arguments than I did. I wondered why that was. I proceeded with my defense even though he had made no rebuttal. "I'm still in the process of fixing things with my mother. And I don't think my parents are ready for me to leave again…and…I think I should—"

"Wait for Jacob," he interrupted. Jake wasn't necessarily a sore spot between us, we just hadn't talked about what happened thoroughly yet. It didn't seem fair of me to bring up Jacob constantly to my new boyfriend. One would think doing such a thing would make the new boyfriend insecure. However, it wasn't as if Sasha expressed any dislike for Jake or discouraged me from waiting for him or wanting to talk to him. Sasha was either perfect or better at lying then he made himself out to be.

Still, I felt the need to explain myself. "It's only been a month. He will come back and if I'm gone when he does it will seem like I don't care about him at all." As unlikely as it was that Jacob would want to see me when he came back, I'd done enough to him already.

"You led me to believe you and he had spoken your peace."

"We did, but it doesn't mean I stopped caring about him. And for him to react the way he did when he saw us, I just…I don't like that he was so upset by it."

Sasha nodded again and put his hands into the pockets of his jacket. It drove me crazy when he did that. A very weird pet peeve to have, but the gesture had different connotations when it came to us. Surely, he didn't still feel wary about touching me now. Not after everything we'd been through.

"I understand the way he feels," Sasha said. "I have felt the same way he does." Sasha was so even-tempered it was hard to imagine that he would fly off the handle like Jacob had.

"Did you see your fiancée with someone once?" I quietly asked. We didn't talk about his fiancée much beyond that first conversation when he admitted to taking her memories. I presumed it was something he didn't want to talk about. He stared out over the water for a few seconds before answering. I worried I had crossed a line in bringing her up.

"No," he responded after missing a few beats. "I saw you with Jacob. The first night we were here." He looked at the ground guiltily while he admitted this, an obvious tone of regret in his voice. Given how furious I was over Jacob's initial presumptions about my feelings for Sasha, it must have been obvious to him that I didn't like jealousy. Hence, his reluctance to admit to it.

My palms hit the wet ground. My mouth went wide. "You were jealous then?"

Sasha tucked his hands even deeper into his pockets. "I am afraid so," he confessed.

I sighed once before I scooted closer to him and laid my head onto his shoulder. He flinched at first. I rolled my eyes before I yanked his hand out of his pocket and threaded his fingers with mine. "I know I should be offended, but since you were able to handle yourself, we can just leave it as is and move on." He'd done more than handle himself. No more than a few days after that night Sasha encouraged me to fix things with Jacob. Even if he had been jealous his actions were always in my best interest. Once again, he was either perfect or a really good liar. He sighed in relief and kissed my fingers twice. I noticed he had paint under his fingernails again, although I had not seen him paint once since we got to Forks. He must have been working on Esme's portrait. His hands were remarkable; able to create masterpieces again and again while also able to cause destruction. I remembered the first time he touched me in Uricani. The thrill it gave me. I still experienced the thrill now.

Wait. No. That time in Uricani, it wasn't the first time.

My head snapped up from his shoulder. "I just thought of something."

"I can only imagine," Sasha said with an interested smirk.

"How were you able to shake my hand?"

"Hmm?" he replied.

"When we first met, you put your hand out and shook mine without any hesitation." As I explained, the pictures formed in my head. Sasha's eyes lit up as I took him through the event. He couldn't seem to get used to my power. I quickly turned my mind blank to bring him back into the present. "But every moment after that touching me was an ordeal for you. Why was it so easy the first time?"

Sasha unnecessarily cleared his throat and took a breath. "Nessie, I must confess, shaking hands was and will never be an issue."

"What does that mean?"

"As you know, my ability passes from my hands, but I need to be touching a person's face or head for it to have effect. It must have something to do with proximity to where memories are stored."

I paused to allow myself to absorb his explanation. This was different from keeping the jealously thing from me. That was unimportant and directly affected Sasha, not me. But _this_? The touching problem had been a huge hurdle throughout our friendship, not to mention our romantic relationship. "So, you're saying this entire time I haven't actually been in danger of you?"

"You are always in danger of me," he said darkly, and not in a flirtatious way.

I ripped my hand from his and scooted a foot away. "Stop it. That's not funny."

"I was not trying to be funny," he whispered.

"What is the matter with you? You freaked out over holding hands, you led me to think any touch from you was equivalent to a bomb about to be set off, and it was never an issue?!"

"That is not entirely accurate. You rattled me, Nessie."

"How so?"

"As if you do not know. You pushed me. You did so purposefully, not that I ever tried to stop you."

I folded my arms against my chest. I had no room to deny what he said was true, but I also believed he needed to be pushed. And if what he said about needing to touch a person's face was true, then all that pushing had in reality been for nothing.

"I never dealt with my guilt over what I did to Sonya or the one who turned me," he said. "I just let it eat away at me, believing my solitude was just punishment for what I had done, nor could I risk hurting someone else. You made me think I might able to rejoin the living."

"Did you think you wouldn't be able to?" I mumbled.

"Much of the time, yes. I did not believe myself deserving. Even though I knew holding your hand would not hurt you, there was always a chance of an accident, a mistake. I would not be able to live with myself if I…" He words faded away. He pinched the bridge of his nose; well-known pain returning to the lines of his face.

I had been living through hurting the people I loved for several weeks. A miniscule amount compared to the time he had spent living with remorse. But it was ludicrous for him to feel guilty about hurting me, because he hadn't done so. "You haven't, and I don't believe you would," I said seriously.

"You do not know what it means to me to have earned your trust."

"I trusted you from the very beginning."

"You should not have," he said lowly.

All I wanted to do was hold him, console him, and shake him until he believed what I told him. This was an old topic though, and I wanted to get back to the matter at hand. He lied to me. I wanted to demand that lying was simply not an option in this relationship, but it would have made me a hypocrite to do so. I had kept things from Sasha. But I could be better. We could be better for each other. "Regardless of what I should or should not have done, I trusted you anyway. I don't like that you lied to me."

"I did not lie. You assumed."

"Same difference!" I exclaimed.

He moved closer to me. He was slightly behind me, so I couldn't actually see him without turning my body around. He leaned down to my ear and said softly, "I can never touch your face of course, not ever."

"Good. I don't want you touching my face," I said back bitingly.

"I _can_ hold your hand," he informed me. He demonstrated this by tugging my hand out from under my arm and clasping it between his. I was still annoyed, so I refused to say anything.

"I can touch your wrists." The sentence struck me as silly for a second until his fingers ghosted over the skin surrounding my thin wrist. His icy fingertips sent chills up my arm. "Your elbows, your exquisite shoulders," he whispered into my ear. His hands were traveling over the material of my jacket, but I could still feel the pressure of his touch. He pushed my long hair aside to hang down my back. His lips fell from my ear and met with a small patch of exposed skin at the base of my neck. His lips lingered there for too long because my head began to spin. Maybe that was the idea. Taking advantage of my silent dizziness, his arm came around my waist. His hand splayed over stomach, which was moving in and out quickly as I fought to take a breath. "I can feel how your stomach muscles tighten when you are nervous."

He hugged me closer to him and my head fell back against his shoulder. I was completely surrounded by him. I was making no attempt to get away.

"I can feel the beating of your heart, impossibly fast. I can feel how warm and soft and perfect you are. I can kiss you." He placed a feather-light kiss on my temple. That simply wasn't going to be enough. Something was going to have to provide a reason for my embarrassing heavy breathing and it was going to be more than a peck on a forehead. I twisted my body around and grasped the lapel of his jacket before I pressed my lips against his. He didn't seem at all surprised. Why should he be? He had a definite knack for getting me worked up. I pushed out any knowledge that I was being watched to concentrate on this, on him. Our kisses, even urgent ones like this, were never about a fight for control. It was more like we harmonized, finding solace and validation in the act. We had both suffered; he had for much longer than me, and it was in each other that we could find some abstract justification for all of it.

His skin was cold and damp from the foggy air. His breath tasted sweet as I inhaled it, and I wondered what kind of miraculous pattern of DNA was required to make a person naturally taste this way.

Eventually, we parted when I needed to take in an actual breath. His smile was there. It made my heart soar. "That's something, isn't it?" I asked breathily. He chuckled at first, but when his smile faltered, I became uneasy. "What is it?"

"I can never feel your blush," he muttered sadly. "I cannot wipe your tears away." His hand floated over my cheek. He may not have been physically touching skin to skin, but I did not doubt that my face was radiating heat that his cold hands could steal away from me. I took hold of his hand; then I twisted the pair around so the back of my own hand was actually pressed against my cheek. It was as close as his fingers could get.

"Then don't give me any reason to cry," I ordered.

"Never," he promised. It was a stupid promise. The kind boyfriends give to their girlfriends in the puppy love stage. The kind of promise no one could ever make and guarantee, but I believed him anyway. I couldn't help it. I wanted to believe there was a person out there who could protect me from all the bad things in the world.

I nodded and let him kiss my forehead once before I turned my body back around so I was facing the river again. I leaned back into him. His arms and legs came around me comfortably. The air became heavier and it began to sprinkle. I didn't make a move to get up and neither did he. I needed a few more minutes of this false privacy before we headed back into the house.

"There was another reason I was tentative to touch you, monster-girl. For much of time I have known you, you belonged to another."

"I don't belong to anyone," I snapped. I felt Sasha's grip tighten around me in surprise. "I don't want to and I don't have to."

"You are right," he said calmly over my shoulder. "To say 'belong' implies that you are a possession or property. You could never be owned by any person. I simply meant you had a connection to someone else."

If he only knew.

"I didn't mean to snap at you," I apologized. I knew Sasha hadn't meant to infer that I was Jacob's possession, but to "belong" to someone else made me think of relinquishing control of my life to someone else—one of the major things I wanted to get away from when I left home. "I'm being a hypocrite. I say I don't belong to anyone when I like to think that you're mine."

He laughed. "Luckily for you, I am more than willing to dedicate myself to you, and I am willing accept whatever you desire to offer to me. You have made me happier than I have been in centuries, monster-girl. I want you to know that."

I should have been pleased I could be the person to remind him of real happiness. He deserved it after centuries and centuries of nothingness. Unfortunately, I was met once again with guilt. Was there anything in my life that didn't result in guilt? He was offering everything to me while I still had a connection to Jacob. Jacob wasn't even here, but he was keeping me here. He was keeping me from giving every part of myself to Sasha.

"Yet, I ask you reconsider Australia," he said. "I understand it is too soon right now, but this battle with Jacob, it may be one you are unable to win."

"What do you mean? Do you think I should give up on him?"

"No, I know you would never give up on a friend; however, you have fought this last year for the right to make your own choices. Jacob has the right to do the same. That includes whether or not he wants to continue a friendship with you."

Ouch. His comment was a little harsher than I'd like. Jacob did say he couldn't be friends with me while I was with someone else, but somehow it felt more severe when Sasha said it in connection with this trip. Sasha was planning our future, and those plans did not include Jacob.

"You think Jacob wants to be done with me?"

"I cannot say for certain, but you are not planning to end our relationship any time soon, are you?"

"No," I replied quietly. My face was burning with heat again.

"Therefore, the decisions you and Jacob have made aware to one another remain and we must move on with our lives eventually—part of our lives at least. I know you wish to travel. I would like to do that with you."

I peered up at him. He flashed his white teeth. The laugh lines appeared around his stark blue eyes. Once again, he made things seem so easy and so…tempting. How did he always manage to win these arguments? I looked back out at the water and steadied my voice. It was bad enough he could feel my heart break into a sprint.

"It's not the right time to leave, but if I change my mind, you'll be the first to know."

He chuckled warmly and placed his chin on my shoulder, rocking us back a forth slightly. "Do you think it is fate, monster-girl?" he asked in amazement.

"What's fate?" I inquired.

"You and I."

"You mean, the fact that we're together?"

"Yes."

I scoffed with a laugh. "I don't believe in fate."

"I do not believe you for an instant."

"It's true!"

"After all the romantic stories you have read, after all the symbolic imagery you have deciphered? You deny fate?" he asked with a wave of dismissal.

"Yes," I said confidently.

Sasha's arms fell limply around me and he sat up straight. I felt compelled to turn around and face him. Sasha moved backwards and we both sat Indian style facing each other. His eyes were absolutely disbelieving. "How can you witness the love between your mother and father and not believe in fate?"

"My parents…there's no explaining my parents," I mumbled, even though I partially hoped they were listening in on this part. "I mean, their story ended with interspecies parenting. I don't think Shakespeare or Austen or Tolstoy ever covered that."

"I mean it. Think of us. I take memories away; you fill minds with your beautiful thoughts and images. We balance each other." He put a hand on my knee and ran his thumb over the seam of my jeans a few times. "Nessie, I do not know why I am the only Gypsy to ever become a vampire. I do not know why I have lived as long as I have. What have I given the world? Nothing. I look at you and I know there is some kind of future meant for me. Do you really believe fate or God or something has not played into that?"

I kept staring at his hand on my knee. "I can't."

"Why?"

I had no place asking Sasha to be honest with me when I had not been completely honest with him. It was time for him to know everything. It was time for him to understand why I struggled to let Jacob go when it seemed impossible that we had any kind of friendship anymore. "There's something I have to tell you. I didn't keep it from you on purpose. Wait, that's a lie. I did keep it from you on purpose. But not to hurt you. I just didn't know what it meant. I still don't. Jacob and I, he is a wolf…that is…we're…," I was still stuttering to explain this.

"He imprinted on you," Sasha interrupted.

I immediately looked up him. He already knew? How? How long had he known? Since we got to Forks? "Who told you?" Was the question I finally decided on.

"Your father, and your mother, and everyone else."

I sighed in exasperation. I needed to find a way to stop sleeping. Too much went on while I was unconscious. "Are you serious? They had no place telling you that. I'm so sorry."

"It is understandable. They care very much for you. They care very much for Jacob."

"How long have you…? Nevermind. It doesn't matter. I promise I was going to tell you, but I didn't know what to think of it myself yet." I was rambling. I had yet to get to the actual point I was trying to make.

"I am not angry. I am worried."

"How did they explain it to you?"

"They said imprinting is permanent, and mysterious, and usually, it means the wolf and his intended are betrothed."

"They used the word 'betrothed'?" They used the word _intended_? God, what century was this?

"Well, essentially. They were a little confused, or perhaps I am confused. They said wolves could be whatever the imprint needed. So, while I believe Jacob's anger is justified given how much he cares for you, I do not understand why he is angry at all. Unless, you need him to be unhappy?"

"Why would I possibly need or want that?" I nearly shouted at him.

"I do not know."

"Neither do I."

"Fair enough."

The conversation came to halt now that I realized he was just as confused about imprinting as I was. "Being with Jacob used to be so easy. It was like breathing, satisfying and invigorating."

"What changed?"

"Nothing. That was the problem. My feelings about Jacob didn't change. I was nearly matured and everyone expected the proposal and the wedding and the happily ever after. But I didn't want it. And I couldn't force myself to want it."

"No one should have made those expectations of you."

"I don't blame them," I confessed. I lifted myself onto my knees and pushed my hair behind my ears anxiously. "Because they're right. Imprints and wolves are connected; they're supposed to thrive alongside one another. Every other imprint relationship has ended that way. It's beautiful, it's indescribable, it's magical. Don't you see? I can't believe in fate because fate will always lead to Jacob. If that is my fate, then why am I drawn to you? Why should we bother with this relationship? We're only setting ourselves up for a world of hurt and you—"

"I love you."

I gasped in response. I forgot everything I was just saying. Was it too soon to say such a thing? Did it fit in with today's social constructs? Do supernatural creatures like us have social constructs? Should I say it back? How much time had passed since he said it? It must have been too much because he gulped and began stammering aimlessly,

"I apologize…I…"

"Stop," I commanded. He obeyed.

I swallowed once and crawled forward onto his lap so my legs were straddling him. I gently placed my hands on either side of his face, in a position of intimacy he would never be able to share with me. It was in that moment I understood why he longed to feel my blush. I pinned my body as closely as I could to him, touching my forehead against his. His hands were cold against the small of my back. The light sprinkling could now be labeled rain. In a few minutes we would be soaked from head to toe.

"I choose you," I whispered before kissing him tenderly. It meant more than "I love you" for us. It meant everything.


	22. But You Can't Say I'm Not Trying

**Chapter VIII: But You Can't Say I'm Not Trying **

The sounds of singing birds awoke me from an ungodly pleasant slumber. Normally, the impromptu wake-up call would have been unwelcome, but my lingering good mood from the previous evening kept me in good spirits. I found myself in my own bed, alone, once again. It definitely was not where I fell asleep last night. I stretched comfortably, leaving my arms to lie above my head. I relaxed there for a while, reliving my last few conscious memories. It started out much like every other evening had for the past couple of weeks. Initially, Sasha and I were laughing over the unfortunate exploits of Jim Dixon in _Lucky Jim_, but by the time Christine Callaghan showed up it became obvious Sasha was not paying attention to the text whatsoever. The feel of his lips ghosting of my neck made it difficult for me to pay attention as well.

"Hey…are you done?" I asked.

"Hm?" he hummed back.

"With this page? Are you finished?" I sat with my back against his chest; the best position for reading a book simultaneously. My fingers tugged at the page in question. I could feel an increased drumming begin to thrum between us. Unfortunately, it was quite obvious where the sound was coming from. It was not fair how noticeable my physical reactions were.

"Uh…," he stammered. His cold breath ran down my neck. Gooseflesh appeared for a mere second until my warm blood heated my skin. "I must admit, I was not reading."

"I surmised as much."

"You know," he purred against my ear. It tickled, and I instinctively moved away just an inch. Sasha used the moment of distraction to pluck the book out from my hands. For some reason, I thought to object.

"Hey—"

"Your skin is far more interesting." All thoughts of the book were gone as he placed open mouth kisses along my throat. I took a large gulp against my breath which had increased in speed slightly. I involuntarily squirmed in my seat, not taking time to figure out why. I arched my back and bent my neck to expose more of my skin to him. Without realizing it, I fisted the fabric of his black jeans above his knees. I became aware when his long fingers flowed over the tops of both my hands. I felt him smile against my skin. "Should we return to our reading?" he asked coyly. With my head still clouded, I actually whimpered in response. "Oh, Nessie," he breathed. And for once, he sounded out of breath.

Quickly, he turned me around so I was kneeling between his legs, attacking my lips with unabashed enthusiasm. My hands clasped the sides of his face, then combed through his silky hair, tugging at it slightly. He exhaled a pleasurable groan into my mouth. He pressed forward because I was sitting upright. Instead of pushing back, I let him continue to press on, so that eventually I was on my back on the large sofa. He kneeled on all fours above me, not putting any of his weight on me, not even letting any part of his middle touch mine. I took in a deep breath when he moved his mouth to my jaw. I wanted him…closer. Whatever that meant. That thought alone caused a haze in my brain. I moved my hands to grip his torso and tried to pull his body towards me, but his elbows didn't relent. I tugged again, hoping he would take the hint. He chuckled against my ear. I merely grunted.

"Your parents will be back soon," he whispered, before pecking my lips once, twice. He was right. We hadn't been checked in on in a good thirty minutes. I wondered if I could ever convince my parents to let me get my own apartment.

I snorted as I reminisced on that part. Not likely. I slowly pulled myself out of bed, lazily showered, and got myself together for the day. I spent more time than usual deciding what to wear. Over the past year, I had fallen out of practice with Alice's well-planned fashion routine, opting for comfort, considering Ántonia and I were constantly on the move. I had every intention of sticking to my new laid-back style, even though I was spending more time perusing my closet. In fact, my decision-making had nothing to do with appearance and everything to do with strategy. I decided on a top—that while surely Edward Cullen approved—exposed more of my skin for Sasha to appreciate. Although, after I stared at myself in the mirror for a while I began to feel, well, stupid. Alice may not have liked my outfit, but she sure would have loved the amount of planning that went into it. Too much planning. I was turning into such a girl. I decided to forgo another foray into my closet and wandered into the living room. This is where I would usually find Sasha waiting anxiously for me. After last night I was damn anxious to see him again, too. However, upon my entrance into the room I found my dad sitting in the very spot where I would normally look for Sasha. He looked tense.

"Good morning," I said to him, easily finding a smile.

"Renesmee, I'd like to discuss something with you," my father said calmly and without any greeting. Not a good sign.

"Okay." I sat down on the only armchair in our tiny living room. When Esme remodeled this house for my parents, she evidently wasn't expecting more than two people to be living here. "Where is Sasha?" I took care to ask. From what my senses told me, he wasn't anywhere in the house.

"He's out on a walk," he explained.

I didn't like the idea of Sasha walking around by himself. I hoped my parents did not send him out. "What did you want to talk about?" I asked quickly.

"I would like to discuss your relationship with Sasha."

Well, I should have seen that coming. Initially, my stomach tightened at my father's directness, but I attempted to convince myself that this had to be a good thing. I needed my parents to accept that Sasha was a part of my life now, which meant he would be a part of their lives, too. I knew since I brought him here they would be won over with time. "Good. I'd like to talk about it, too." I tucked my hands under my legs and waited for him to begin. My father looked more apprehensive than I was used to seeing. He clasped his hands together and leaned forward onto his knees. Perhaps it was because my mother wasn't here to offer her support. Although, her absence made it obvious she must not have been very supportive of the matter, _still_.

"From what your mother and I have observed and from what Sasha has told us—"

"Wait, you've been talking to Sasha?" I interrupted.

"We're your parents," he said unapologetically. "He's the man you are seeing. It's within our discretion to speak with him."

I supposed I couldn't deny my father the right to have the quintessential "talk" with my boyfriend. But some kind of warning would have been nice, either from my parents or from Sasha. In fact, why didn't Sasha tell me about it? "Fine. I understand. He just hasn't said anything to me," I mumbled.

"You'll have to ask him about that."

Apparently, my father had nothing to do with Sasha's silence. It was confusing. I couldn't think of a reason Sasha wouldn't tell me about my father's interrogation. Unless it was upsetting to him? Or embarrassing? But Sasha came to me when he was uncomfortable. I depended on him to be honest. I didn't get it. This kind of thing seemed like something we would either commiserate or laugh about. I thought so intently about it I almost missed my father's question. "Maybe we should begin with what you wish to discuss?"

"Oh…well, I'd like to know how you and Mom feel about him."

He picked at his fingernails. There was nothing there. "In all honesty, your mother and I are both torn over our opinions of him."

I sat back in my chair, already feeling defeated. "Let me guess, you're for it and Mom is against it," I grumbled.

"Not exactly. We both have our reasons for thinking he is a good influence and a bad influence for you."

"A bad influence?" I sat up again immediately. What did he think? That this was some kind of rebellious stage and I was going after the bad boy? Sasha was about the furthest thing from a bad influence. If anything, _I_ was a poor influence on him. "What has he done that would make you dislike him? He's been a perfect gentleman. He cares about me."

"I know." He sighed.

"What is it then?"

He finally looked up at me. He appeared astoundingly serious. His mouth set in a straight line and his eyebrows contracted. There was something about it I didn't like. I considered his accusation something of a joke; however, he apparently did not. But I knew Sasha better than anyone. Whatever was worrying my father just had to be a result of him being overprotective. "Sasha is a troubled individual. He has a complicated past."

"And who among us doesn't have a complicated past?" I snapped.

"Renesmee, I cannot discuss this with you if you are going to become defensive about everything I say."

I moved my hands, which had come untucked and fisted at my sides without my realizing it, to rest on my lap. I took a cleansing breath. It was hard not to be defensive when he was making disparaging and inaccurate remarks about my boyfriend. Okay, maybe not inaccurate. Sasha was complicated. And maybe his words weren't disparaging, just worried. I was going to have to try to be less emotional about this discussion. I really was turning into a girl. "I'm sorry," I half-whispered, trying to contain the petulance in my voice.

"Sasha will be the first to tell you he has had doubts about whether or not you and he should be in a relationship and naturally, that concerns me. The most important thing is that you are safe."

"I know he worries about hurting me, but you went through the same thing with Mom, right?"

He was already shaking his head before I finished my sentence. "It was not exactly the same."

"That's good then! He's not attracted to my blood. It's not as if he wants to kill me," I argued, cracking a smile. The thought was ludicrous. I mean, Sasha…Sasha _loved_ me. My mind went back to the river where only a few days ago Sasha confessed the true depth of his feelings for me. He hadn't yet said it again. Maybe he was embarrassed by the way it came out. It was in a moment of panic, which isn't a desirable way to hear such a thing, usually. He made up for it in different ways though. He made sure to kiss me before we parted, which wasn't often. And in the way he smiled so freely lately, as if a very heavy weight had suddenly been lifted from his shoulders. Being with one another had never been so comfortable. It made me feel an incredible mixture of warmth and inexplicable nerves. Maybe this is where all the girliness was coming from.

My father started rubbing his forehead. _Oops_. I was getting too distracted from the conversation. I was usually able to keep my mind on task better than this. That's kind of what I'm known for. Otherwise the whole running away thing wouldn't have come at such as shock.

I didn't know what my father would argue next. However, I did not expect him to say nothing, get a faraway look in his eyes, then rub his hands over his face and exhale loudly through his nose. He became frustrated so quickly, presumably by my thoughts. I couldn't bring myself to apologize for them though. They were innocent enough. And surely he had to recognize that never in my life had I ever been so happy.

_Oh. I'd never been so happy. _My mouth dropped open slightly, but no words came out.

"Look," he said pointedly, finally deciding on his reasoning. "I know he does not wish to harm you, but that doesn't mean that he won't. This I say from experience."

The statement made me fidget in my seat. My father's relationship with my mother while she was human had been…strained. I understood how much it would torture him now if she were hurt in any way, especially by his own hand. But my mother didn't have any regrets. Some new information had come to light recently, however. My father left her, broke up with her, essentially. They must have regretted that. And that wasn't a physical kind of hurt. "Do you mean physically or emotionally?" I asked.

"I can only handle one thing at a time here, Nessie. Let's just talk physically."

Well, the physical I could take on better than the emotional. I'd been making this argument for months now. "I think he's in better control than he thinks. He just hasn't been around people enough to know it. Give him a little more time and he'll prove it to you."

He got that faraway look in his eyes again, but an annoyed smirk crossed his lips this time.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing," he muttered with a wave of dismissal. "It's just, I've heard this before."

I could see now that no amount of arguing was going to convince him. He saw too much of his relationship in my relationship and would always think the worst could happen, even though his relationship ended happily. He was being overprotective. He was being a dad. I couldn't begrudge him that. "What if I promise to be careful?" I asked as I leaned forward in my seat. "What if we both promise?"

"He's already made that promise to me, many times."

"Oh." I realized why Sasha hadn't said anything to me now. To bring it up would be a rehashing of an argument he and I had several times now. An argument I was tired of. He knew that. Between him and my parents I was surprised the three of them had not yet convinced Sasha into running back to Romania while I was asleep. "Well, I promise, too. I promise to pay attention. I know he's not perfect, but I trust him."

He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "You're too young for this."

My shoulders instantly drooped. "That's not fair," I moaned.

"You are young, no matter how you try to deny it. It has nothing to do with how you look or the maturity you've gained; some wisdom simply comes with time. There's only so much you can prepare yourself for. You don't know everything." He said the last phrase with blunt emphasis. I wondered how long he'd been waiting to say that to me.

I had to fight hard not to roll my eyes, as that would have been the immature way to take it. Then again, if anyone was a know-it-all, it was him. He smirked. Well, at least I didn't say it out loud. "You're only worried about the future because you can't see mine. Alice spoils you."

"Alice doesn't know everything, either."

"Speaking of the future," I said, deciding to change the subject. "Is Mom ever going to come around?"

"Your mother is…stubborn," he admitted.

"She's being impossible."

"You haven't been making an effort," he accused.

"I feel like anything I say isn't going to make a difference. She's still mad about Jacob. She still hates that I hurt him." Doesn't she know that I hate myself, too?

"She knows," he answered.

I averted my concentration to the large rug covering the walnut flooring, shutting my mind out as best I could. A crease appeared almost instantly on my father's forehead, and I knew I had successfully irritated him. I didn't care. I didn't want him to hear anymore.

"She cares a great deal for Jacob, but you are her daughter. She's on your side," he said gently.

"Doesn't seem like it," I muttered. He narrowed his disapproving eyes at me. Admittedly, that _was_ a little petulant. "What can I say to make her understand?"

"When Bella decides something, she's unwavering in her decision. When she accepted that you were Jacob's imprint she prepared herself for the implications of that distinction. Now she needs to accept something new and it's going to take some time." It had been a month. Wasn't that enough time? "The truth is, your mother isn't the only one who doesn't understand."

"Not you, too," I groaned. "I thought you were going to support me. You can see in my head. You know…you know how I feel about Sasha." I squirmed in my seat again. Although Sasha told me he loved me, I hadn't yet responded other than to kiss him or smile like an idiot. Not that I didn't feel for him, but the words didn't come easily. I didn't know why. That would be something I would have liked to discuss with my mother if we were on speaking terms.

"Yes, among other things," he growled while rubbing his temple. I remembered what my thoughts were lingering on when I woke up this morning. I covered my mouth as I laughed through my embarrassment. I felt my cheeks flush and I noticed him smile. He's always been a sucker for a blush.

"Sorry," I murmured.

"I know you care for him, but what I don't understand is why your connection to Jacob is in jeopardy because of it."

The story of my life. I'd discussed this with Sasha. I'd discussed this with Jacob. I'd even yelled at my mother about it. I'd made no new headway on the topic. However, there was one thing my father could tell me that no one else could. "Is Jacob in love with me? Truly?"

He paused before he responded. If it took him this long to answer…

"He thinks he is."

"Am I in love with him?"

He sighed, knowing I already knew the answer to this question. "No."

"So it would seem that imprinting isn't as simple as determining friend, brother, whatever."

"Well, we should have paid better attention to the examples presented to us. Emily didn't always feel something for Sam. In fact, she despised him at first."

"But he always loved her," I added.

"On some level, yes.

"So when Emily fell in love with Sam, it was a gradual thing for her. It wasn't like one day she decided he should be her husband and they lived happily ever after."

"Not quite," he relented.

"I don't think Jacob is in love with me," I confessed. A callous thing to say, considering everything he had given up to take care of me and protect me as I was growing up. It also belittled the suffering he was going through now. "I think he's in love with the idea of being in love with me. But he doesn't know me well enough to be in love with me."

"That's not always how love works. I barely needed to speak to your mother before I knew I was in love with her."

I leaned my elbow onto the armrest and gave him an annoyed look. "Not all of us are programmed to fall in love at first sight, Dad."

"It's all that human in you." He poked me in the knee with his finger.

"I think it's the mix. It makes everything confusing," I deadpanned.

"What do you want Jacob to be for you?" he asked directly.

I wasn't prepared to answer this question. I've never been ready for it. "I don't know," I said sheepishly. "Maybe that's the problem. I mean, when I was a kid I always knew what Jacob was to me. He was my friend. I had no doubts about that. But as I got older, I thought my feelings would change, but they didn't, and I just got confused, and I didn't know what he was supposed to be to me. It would seem that Jacob doesn't know either."

"I know you never intended to hurt him."

"I hope he's okay. That's something I need. At the same time, I feel cruel demanding anything of him after I rejected him."

"Perhaps being away is helping him to heal," he said hopefully. I doubted the likelihood of such a situation. It seemed more likely he was he trying to get me out of his system. Maybe that was the best solution.

"I hope so," I said anyway. The conversation fell into a lull, but my father didn't make a move to get up or hug me or do something to indicate the conversation was over. I waited a few seconds for him to say something else. His silence made me uneasy. "Is there anything else?"

"Actually, yes." He clasped his hands together again. All these nervous ticks were so odd to me. "Now, you are serious about Sasha, correct?"

"Yes, Dad."

"I would prefer that you talk to your mother about this, but she couldn't be convinced, and I think it's too important to put off."

"What?"

"Regarding your physical relationship with Sasha."

My mouth dropped. My physical _what_ now? "You mean my…our—"

"Yes." He spoke his next words very quickly, as though he was just as uncomfortable saying them as it was for me to hear them. "You see, Renesmee, you are a mystery to this world and we are simply unsure what kind of consequences might occur if you and Sasha engage in a sexual relationship."

"Um…Dad." I made a gesture for him to stop. I really hoped it would work. "It's really okay. I'll talk to Aunt Rosalie or Alice. I swear." _Oh shoot._ They weren't home now. Would he settle for a talk over the phone?

"You mother and I just want you to be careful. A _different_ kind of careful."

"Sasha and I are not there yet," I stammered. "We're not even close." For God's sake, it's only been a month.

"Not even close?" He lifted his eyebrow in disbelief. Then he tapped his temple a few times.

My mouth dropped yet again. Heat flooded my face. Last night. He saw what happened last night. And he thought that I…we… I've always been aware that my father could read my thoughts, and I realized only moments ago that he would have heard what I thinking about this morning, but even as it was happening I wasn't thinking about…_that_. _That_ meaning…oh god. "Stop looking," I snapped.

"If I could," he said with a shrug.

"I know I'm not ready for that."

"Sasha said the same thing."

"You talked about _this_ with _him_?"

He barely nodded. I leaned my elbows onto my knees and covered my face with my hands. _Ugh_…

"Nessie, we were doing what concerned parents do. I know when your mother and I were dating…"

I had to interrupt that particular sentence. "Dad, please stop. Let me assure you, I hear what you're saying. But Sasha and I haven't discussed that, and we shouldn't be doing something we haven't even talked about." Maybe I wasn't handling this very maturely. But if I couldn't even talk about it at this point, I knew I wasn't about to try it out. This was a particular topic in which my physical maturity, my mental maturity, and my chronological maturity met and exploded in confusion. I didn't know how to compromise any of it. My body was that of a person in their twenties, and if I was being honest with myself, I wanted Sasha. That is, I wanted him to kiss me and touch me. I didn't know what I wanted beyond that. But maybe something shifted last night? I didn't know. My mind was full of knowledge, but I'd never…I was…inexperienced. Then my age was a whole different conversation that was perhaps irrelevant. I was seven years old, but that didn't make much difference to Sasha. For God's sake, you couldn't get a much larger age difference then the two of us. When you live forever, age doesn't matter much anyway.

"I believe you," he said. Surely the pure embarrassment flooding my emotions and the panicked thoughts in my head should convince him. "But you know you were a…surprise to us," he said slowly, as if he expected me to be offended. _Please._ My existence has been surprising people since day one. I became immune to that reaction long ago. "Please realize there could be repercussions to your actions. And please—"

_If he says use protection I am going to freak out._

"—come to us before you make a final decision."

"Okay. I will," I answered quickly, not even realizing what I was promising, but quite eager to end the conversation.

"Good."

An inevitably awkward pause followed, but he didn't seem like he was going to continue. Perhaps he was just as horrified by all this as I was.

"Can I go?"

"Of course," my father said plainly. I scurried out of the room before he could change his mind.


	23. The Strength Inside Me Burning

Sasha's POV

**Chapter IX: The Strength Inside Me Burning**

_To…_

_I still recall the wondrous moment_

_When you appeared before my eyes, _

_Just like a fleeting apparition,_

_Just like pure beauty's distillation._

_When'er I languished in the throes of hopeless grief_

_Amid the troubles of life's vanity,_

_Your sweet voice lingered on in me,_

_Your dear face came to me in dreams._

_Years passed. The raging, gusty storms_

_Dispersed my former reveries,_

_And I forgot your tender voice,_

_Your features so divine._

_In exile, in confinement's gloom,_

_My uneventful days wore on,_

_Bereft of awe and inspiration_

_Bereft of tears, of life, of love._

_My soul awakened once again:_

_And once again you came to me,_

_Just like a fleeting apparition_

_Just like pure beauty's distillation._

_My heart again resounds in rapture,_

_Within it once again arise_

_Feelings of awe and inspiration,_

_Of life itself, of tears, and love._

- _A. E. Pushkin_

I laughed to myself as I wandered through the damp and dimly lit forest. I spent the better part of last night and this morning having a daunting yet enlightening conversation with Nessie's parents. Simply remembering I was older than the three of them combined plus a thousand years made the whole thing feel rather ridiculous at times. However, I could not deny it was called for. My heart was filled with her. Every thought was her. Every moment was her. I wanted to see her, smell her, and touch her on a constant basis. I had gone over a millennium without touching any person in an intimate manner, and I did not believe I ever would again. Now, it was all I could think about—that is, when I was sure no one was listening. I could keep my thoughts focused. I usually recited the works of Pushkin when Edward was present—in Russian—hoping the change in language might sound like white noise to him. However, I was certain my choice of Russia's greatest writer of the Romantic era was not lost on him. No, the trouble must have lied with Nessie. Whatever was happening in her thoughts must have caused her parents' concern. Not that I would ask her. Not that I _needed_ to ask her. Our experience last night on the sofa was particularly…memorable. It was good to be amongst the trees and the birds now. I had the freedom to muse on it over and over again without regret. Nessie, being so young, may have lacked that kind of self-control.

Another significant change in the discussion last night was the inclusion of Bella. I had private conversations with each of the Cullens over the course of my stay, over a dozen with Edward thus far, but none with Nessie's mother. I took this to mean she had not made up her mind about my presence in Nessie's life. And perhaps, her decision to finally speak with me was a result of the confession I made two days prior. I had told Nessie I loved her. And while every molecule of my existence felt the overwhelming truth of those words, I had absolutely failed in the execution of admitting it to her. I sounded like a dog at the foot of the master begging for crumbs of affection. I could not contain myself. She was spouting off about how if she were to follow her destiny, it would not include me—the exact opposite of my intent when I began the conversation about fate's influence on our relationship. I needed to let her know the depth of my feelings for her in hopes that she would believe our paths were meant to cross. There had to be a reason we found each other beyond the fact that Ántonia introduced us.

I did not expect her to return the words, especially since I delivered them so ineloquently. Her response was more than I could have asked for though. She drew closer to me instead of shying away. She held my face in warm hands after I told her I could never act out the same gesture upon her perfect skin. Her curly hair was flattened down with rain and her big brown eyes were shining and breathtakingly beautiful. _She chose me_. She wanted so badly to come to terms with the extraordinary circumstances that determined so much of the way she could live her life, and her first conclusion was to share her life with mine. And if what she said about her destiny was true; well, I could not dream of a more perfect promise.

This was all too much and too soon for Nessie's parents. I waited an eternity for it, but it was only seven years for them. It was one thing to date a hybrid. It was another to date a hybrid with parents. Interrogations came with the territory.

"We need to discuss what happened at the river. And what went on in the house tonight," Edward informed me as I closed the door to Nessie's room just after putting her to bed. She had fallen asleep on the sofa. Her parents wasted no time. "I think it would be best if we went to the main house to avoid waking Nessie."

I followed behind them in silence. They kept at a calm pace that was comfortable for me; however, the situation could not have felt more uneasy. There were very few times in my life that I desired to have the abilities of an average vampire. This moment was included. I would have loved to fast forward through all of it. Bella made a point not to look at me when we entered the house. I stared down at my feet and waited for the onslaught of questions, but they remained quiet, perhaps one was waiting for the other to begin. Edward mentioned that he needed to speak with me about what happened in the cottage. It was obvious what he meant, since the only thing we did which was out of the ordinary was my having pinned her to the couch. Although to be fair I did not pin her, she attempted to pin me to her. Regardless, it was an elevation in our physical connection. I did not want them to believe my mind was strictly fixated on how I was drawn to her physically, so I addressed the first concern he mentioned.

"I told her I love her," I said into the silent room. Both of their faces perked up at me with concern. Why could I not say those words at the opportune moment? Had I not read enough romantic novels in my time? "I swear my heart speaks only the truth," I added, the silence making me feel anxious.

Edward took a few steps toward me and cleared his throat. "You realize I am not going to reveal what her thoughts are on the matter?"

"No need. Her feelings are clear to me." That was honestly how I felt. Maybe it was foolish to think one thing meant the other, but I believed something shifted that day. And I would wait until she was ready to tell me how she felt. I saw it as punishment for using my feelings as a bargaining tool initially.

"When did you fall in love with my daughter?" Bella asked abruptly from across the room. It struck me as an unusual question. Why ask _when_? Why not _how_? For most, falling in love is a gradual condition discovered over a period of time and after sharing experiences. I felt that was what had happened for both Nessie and me.

"I am unsure how to answer that question," I hedged.

"It's as simple as it sounds. Was it last week? When you first met? When did you fall in love with her?" she repeated, her bright gold eyes reflecting the moonlight cascading from the large windows.

I had to think about _how _I fell in love with her in order to determine _when_, and still there wasn't an exact moment or exact day. Feeling Bella would not be satisfied with that answer, I gave her a general timeframe. "Six weeks ago, give or take a day."

"Hm," she murmured. She sat down on the armrest of a couch and folded her arms. She tucked her chin to her chest. I looked to Edward for some kind of explanation, but he offered nothing. Once again, the silence got the better of me.

"I found her beautiful and interesting from the very beginning, but I did not expect to form a relationship with her. I did not even possess a friendship aside from the one I share with Ántonia." I laughed nervously at my pathetic nature; neither one of them smiled. "After we became friends I began to develop feelings for her," I said, feeling like an inarticulate blockhead. "Do you mind my asking why you want to know when?"

"It's not hard to fall in love with Renesmee," Bella said flatly. "That's been going on since she was born." Of course. When it came to Nessie, it was more a question of why more men did not fall in love with her.

"I understand I am not the first to love her."

"No. You're not," she snapped.

I looked again to Edward, expecting him to step in. Bella was the only person in the family I had not spoken to privately or about private matters; that was her doing. Edward must have been here solely for her moral support and not to support me. I was on my own with my girlfriend's mother. First off, I needed to convince her that my feelings were genuine. "If you will, I would like the opportunity to explain how I came to care about her," I requested as politely as possible.

Her glassy eyes looked me up and down. Bella was a lovely woman, but in the darkness of her room, ferocity seethed with every twitch of her muscles. She was truly a mother protecting her young. "Fine," she muttered.

I tried to diffuse the tension in the air and took a short breath. I had to explain this thoughtfully or Bella would never believe it. "It was difficult for me to accept that I was developing feelings for her. I fought against it at the beginning. She is so young. She was with someone else. And I…I could do nothing to deserve her," I confessed. It was not an attempt to acquire pity or appear humble. It was the truth. Nessie believed me innocent of my transgressions because they were out of my control. She did not understand the weight of my situation, which was my own fault. I had kept that from her. I was continuing to do so.

Edward eyed me knowingly while out of Bella's line of vision. We had a discussion about my lack of honesty with Nessie days prior. He vowed he would allow me to explain everything to her at the proper time. Given that Bella did not outwardly agree that I was undeserving of her daughter, I surmised he had kept his word.

I looked back to Bella. The arch in her back had relaxed somewhat, but her eyes were focused as ever. "After I told her the reason I lived in seclusion for so long, I expected her to understand and perhaps be sympathetic because we were friends. I never expected her to be compassionate and brave. She took my hand like she had no fear. I thought to myself, this girl has taken so many risks in her short life, yet here I have been trapped in a castle living in perpetual fear for centuries. With her influence and presence, my outlook on life changed dramatically. I am not afraid when I'm with her. I do not wish to be parted from her." This is what I should have said to Nessie as we sat by the river. I would tell her the next time I saw her.

"That's a very romantic story," Bella said unenthusiastically.

"You do not seem pleased to hear it."

"I'm not."

"What can I say to please you?"

She stood up for a second then zipped only a few inches in front of me in the next. "You can apologize for the rift you have created in my family."

"Bella—" Edward cut in.

"He needs to understand what he's doing to our family," she snapped back at her husband.

I spoke quickly. This situation could not carry on any longer. "Bella, it was never my intent to hurt you or your family. Nor was it Nessie's."

"This isn't about your intentions. Jacob is my friend and this relationship you two have is destroying him."

I had to take pause because now I understood why Bella was interested in knowing when I fell in love. Who was I to compare my love to Jacob Black's? He who had loved her since the moment her laid eyes on her and every moment since? He who was suffering a terrible loss because I came into the picture? I felt incredibly guilty about the pain my presence caused, but not remorseful. No. I could not regret it. I told myself it was because Nessie explained she did not love Jacob the way Jacob loved her, but maybe I was merely too selfish to let her go. "I cannot undo what my heart feels."

"You can do what's best for Nessie," she insisted.

"Like you have been doing?" I said without thinking.

"I beg your pardon?" she asked, her voice laced with anger.

Blame Nessie's near-constant complaints about her family life, not to mention how much the silent treatment from her mother was bothering her. The words slipped out. I glanced at Edward for a moment. We were not best friends by any means but we had spent some time together and I knew him to be more understanding. However, all he offered me was a look as if to say, _you are on your own_. I took a noticeable gulp. "I apologize for being frank, but Nessie has expressed to me over and over again that the rules and expectations you forced upon her did not make her happy. The things you thought were best for her. Only Nessie can know what is best. She does not regret me."

"What do you think is going to happen?" she shouted, her arms opening wide. "Are you going to get married? Settle down in a castle of your own?"

"I will do whatever Nessie desires," I said automatically.

Bella sneered at me. "My daughter is headstrong and intelligent, but there is a great deal she doesn't understand. She says she doesn't know what imprinting is supposed to mean in her life? She's irresponsibly putting it off right now, but that is something she will have to figure out."

I sighed. I knew imprinting remained an open issue. And yes, it scared the hell out of me. The powers and abilities possessed by supernatural creatures, including myself and Jacob, were there for a reason. Ántonia had impressed that upon me thousands of times, and still I refused to use my ability. However, imprinting was just as much a part of Nessie as my ability was a part of me, no matter how many times she denied it. I was wise enough and possessed enough faith in the universe to know one day the reason it existed would make itself known. I could only pray when it did it would not rip Nessie away from me in the process. "With all due respect, I know all this."

"I don't see how this will work out. Someone is going to be hurt no matter what and I'd rather it not be my daughter or my friend."

"What do you want of me? Do you want me to leave?" I raised my voice.

"Yes! I want you to leave! I don't want you in our lives!" she exclaimed. My face fell and she paused. Stepping back and folding her arms once again, she sunk away from me. No longer did she exude ferocity and rage; she appeared defeated and broken. I did not understand. As far as I saw things, I did not yet win the argument. "I don't know why I'm fighting so hard. Nessie won't give you up," she said in a monotone voice.

"She has proven herself to have the strength and determination of her mother," I said with a small smile.

She did not let the corners of her mouth turn up, but her eyes were not as sad as a moment ago. "Don't even try it."

I should have known compliments would not work. They did not often work on Nessie either. "I love her. I swear it. I have never felt this way about anyone since I was changed."

"Sasha, I know you love her. But I'm afraid of what's happening to my family, what will happen to Jacob's family and the pack. Jacob and Nessie are not just friends. They have a bond that isn't supposed to be broken. I don't know if he will survive this. And I know it will kill Nessie if it is a result of her doing. I want to spare them the pain."

_A bond that is not supposed to be broken. _I knew a great deal about things which were not _supposed _to be within the supernatural world, my existence being my greatest example. It was a well-known story amongst my family, passed from generation to generation around a campfire, that to live as a cold one is to be cursed. When I first awoke as I vampire, I thought my lineage had somehow saved me. There was no burn, no desire for blood. But the elders knew of what they spoke. My existence was cursed. A decade later, I did have a thirst, one so all-consuming I did not even see the face of the person I was killing. But, as time wore on and I began to expect the craving, I began to see thorough the haze of my lust, to the point where I could describe my victim in meticulous detail, down to the pitch of the scream. Other vampires could admit to the same ability, but they do not spend ten years hearing that single high screech echo in their ears. I may have lacked the fire in my throat and a desire for blood between the attacks, but that suffering was exchanged for another. I have lived with that shame for centuries and centuries. Murdering one poor soul after another. And for a thousand years, I endured the wretched guilt for destroying so many lives. Edward knew it. Bella felt it. I was not meant to be with these people, the Cullens. They were good, honest, and above all, self-controlled—something I never would be.

I thought of Nessie and what she would say if she knew of my dark thoughts. I yearned for the touch of her soft hands. I craved her forgiveness. The only reason I stayed with her, even as I knowingly put her in danger, was because Nessie was not _supposed_ to be here either. I clung to that truth like a drowning man reaches for a life preserver. Her existence was extraordinary, as was mine. It had to be more than coincidence.

"What can I do to make this right in your eyes?" I asked.

Edward finally came forward to wrap his arm around the waist of his wife. She automatically relaxed with his touch. I was reminded of Nessie and myself. Only a few minutes apart and I missed the way her touch could steady me.

"There isn't anything you can do until Jacob comes back," she admitted. She hugged herself tightly, vicariously suffering through Jacob's pain. "If something…changes…can I have your word that you'll step aside?"

She meant to say, if she falls in love with Jacob, you will not fight for her. Initially, I wanted to disagree, but in remembering the promise I made earlier, to do whatever Nessie desired, I was forced to consent.

"About what happened in the house while were out," Edward said, changing the subject in one fell swoop.

"Oh, yes," I stammered. "Well…nothing happened."

"Sasha, you can recite 'To…' and 'The Night' as many times as you wish, but my daughter still dreams."

I nodded and put my hands behind my back, feeling embarrassed. An emotion I had not felt in many, many years.

"Look, we are not comfortable with that kind of behavior going on in our house. I understand the situation. Bella was rather adamant when she was younger, and Nessie is her mother—whether or not either one of them realizes it."

Bella's mouth dropped open slightly. I was just as shocked as she was. "You're not quite being fair, Edward," Bella chided her husband.

_What? She is disagreeing about this?_

"What's not fair?" Edward asked.

"When I was younger your biggest threat was Charlie, and he's human," she explained. They both smirked.

I decided to interrupt and clear my good name. "I know Nessie is not ready for that kind of intimacy, nor am I. This is the first relationship I have had as a vampire and everything feels very new to me. As if I was experiencing it for the first time. Nessie is feeling the same way."

"Do you believe in marriage before sex?" Bella asked bluntly. I noticed Edward narrow his eyes slightly at her. She was unfazed by it; in fact, I think she was amused at making both Edward and I feel uncomfortable. "Just out of curiosity."

I could have insisted making love is reserved for the marriage bed, but they would have known I was lying. Nessie did not give much thought to marriage whatsoever and I had lived too long to gives such practices much significance. "I cannot envision my life without her in it. Therefore, promises of marriage seem rather inconsequential. However, if it were something Nessie preferred, I would respect it," I answered honestly.

"Interesting perspective," she mused. Her eyes dashed to Edward's and he rolled his eyes back.

"I understand from speaking with members of the family that Edward prefers marriage first."

"And how," Bella muttered under her breath. I pretended not to hear her.

"I will respect that as well," I promised.

Edward, fed up with being teased, dropped his arm from Bella's side and gave me a pointed look. He was everything a father protecting his daughter should be. "That being said, you understand that Nessie is special and we don't know everything about her biology."

"And if you touch her, if Edward doesn't kill you, I will," Bella added.

I believed her. "Duly noted."

The conversation did not end, but the ground rules were finally established. I felt like my relationship with Nessie was finally on the right track. She would work things out with her mother and we could actually move forward, make plans, and be a real couple. Despite all the doubts, Edward's, Bella's, and my own, I brazenly prayed my future would lie with her. Coming with Nessie to Forks was the first good decision I had made since becoming a vampire.

I sauntered along a path Nessie led me through yesterday and the day before. I could sense the lingering scent of the two of us twisting through the flora. I was deep into the woods now. Nessie would always bring us this far so we would be out of range to her father's mental eavesdropping. Usually, I tried to keep us closer to the house, but today I wanted some distance when I told her once again how I loved her. The right way this time.

I smiled, imagining Nessie's red face. How was she handling things now? Edward said he felt compelled to talk to Nessie about the change in our relationship. For some reason, Bella was hesitant to take part. Perhaps a result of their fight or maybe she was not ready to see her baby as a woman. She was not hesitant to tell me she would murder me if I touched her baby.

My hands drifted over the bark of a few trees. I picked a small bouquet of wildflowers for Nessie to enjoy. I wanted to make my scent obvious so she could find me. The wind shifted. I absorbed moss, rain, musk, and nearby deer, as well as her sweet aroma. Then something distracted me. The air mixed with something odd—something cloudy, yet familiar. I stepped toward it, but I must have gone the wrong direction because it thinned out and vanished. I step backwards carefully toward my original spot. The smell slowly filled up my nose, covering Nessie's scent and masking the smell of wet pine to near nothingness. The sensation was very familiar, terrifyingly familiar. _It could not be…_ _Why would they come here?_ A trickling of dread began to work down my back. I dropped the flowers and sprinted back along the path. I could not move fast enough. The cloudiness faded in and out, obstructing my sense of smell. It made me feel lost even as I held my eyes open.

Then something else hit me like a train—something completely separate from the fog. I immediately stopped and froze in place. The smell was harsh and dirty. It assaulted my nose at first, but the cloudiness wafting around me softened the sharpness of it.

_No. No. No._ _Not now._ _They are here. For God's sake, they are here._

There was a loud rustling behind me obviously caused by the scurry of a large animal. The rustling stopped a half-second later. A twig snapped. The scurry was replaced by the sound of human feet. I twisted around to see Jacob coming toward me. He was in human form, but only half the man he was last I had observed him. He only wore a pair of ratty shorts, stained and discolored a nasty brown. He was significantly thinner with dark bruises under his eyes. He was distraught. A man lost in the woods.

"Jacob? Are you alright?" I asked, my voice stricken with panic.

"I need to talk to you," he whispered to me, his voice hoarse.

"You do not look well. Come, we will go to the house," I begged. _We have to get to the house. They could be anywhere._

"I don't want to see them. I need to talk to you." His voice was weak and I noticed his breathing seemed a labored. Was it exhaustion or malnutrition? I knew there was no way in hell he trusted me and he was too agitated for me to convince him to go to the Cullens. I had no choice but to satisfy his request.

"What is it?" I asked hastily.

"Edward told me about your power. You can make people forget."

"Yes…," I dragged out the single word. I did not like where this conversation was headed.

"Is it permanent?" He blinked at me.

"Yes," I answered again. I glanced to either side of us, hoping the wind would blow the cloudiness away. It stayed as stagnant and heavy as ever.

_God damn it! There is no time for this! _

"I need your help. I want to forget." His voice broke. He took a breath to hold back his tears, but his eyes had already begun to shine.

"I cannot do that," I said immediately.

"Why not? I'm asking you to." His voice regained some strength—maybe because I was denying him something.

"Jacob, you do not know what you are asking. Nessie is a part of your life. She is your friend and she wishes to remain your friend. I know you are in pain now—"

"Pain?" Jacob interrupted. His voice was now filled with biting scorn as sharp as his shifter teeth. It was a mistake to mention it. I was well versed in the song of suffering, but Jacob was suffering the sting of a broken heart and unrequited love, and according to every book ever written, there is no greater sorrow than that. "You don't know what pain is. Imprinting is different. It's permanent. Nessie could tell me a thousand times she doesn't want me and it wouldn't make a difference. I will always want _her_. To not be with her means I can't be in my pack. I have to ignore my very nature. It's impossible." Jacob dropped to his knees as he panted. He was obviously exhausted. Had he even eaten in the last month? I crouched down beside him to help him up but he held up a hand to stop me. "That's why I need you to make me forget. Forget I imprinted on her. It's the only way I can live."

Tears fell down his face, cutting lines into the dust and dirt. How many nights had I spent regretting what I had done by erasing Sonya's mind? It did not save her. It shattered her. It was an existence worse than what Jacob was describing. He had to understand that although he was suffering now, to lose her so completely would kill him.

"Jacob, you are tired and hungry and upset. I know Nessie wants to undo all the hurt she has caused you, that we have caused you. But we cannot undo how we feel. We can only offer you our regrets and hope we can come together in the future."

"Stop with the explanations and apologies! I've heard them all and they don't make a difference! I love her, but…forgetting her…is the only future I can survive in." His heart called out to me in such distress it was hard to ignore it. I promised I would give her up if it was asked of me, but would I actually go through with it? Nessie pointed out that my ability, when used on Ántonia, did not affect her negatively because she was a vampire. Jacob was a shifter so maybe it was a possibility. Would it be so terrible to grant him some peace? Better than to suffer for the rest of his days.

No. It would be wrong. Bella would never forgive me, nor would Nessie. Jacob did not deserve to have his memories torn away. There would never be a way for my power to work for any person's good.

Jacob stared me down, silently begging me to fulfill his impossible request. As I kneeled there, only inches away from him, I abruptly realized he might as well have been a part of the forest. He was breathing heavily; he was covered in sweat, tears, and grime. Yet, his scent was completely obscured to me. The cloudiness I attempted to run from rolled in slowly and stealthily. It surrounded us, feeling heavy and overwhelming. My chest tightened and I knew what it felt like to be suffocating. It was too late. I should have dragged Jacob away when I had the chance.


	24. Once I Used to Know

**Chapter X: Once I Used to Know **

I was walking through the woods, _slowly_, hoping my face would return to its original color before I found Sasha. Of all the average human experiences I could have with my father, I had to have _that one_. I would prefer talking about imprinting to that. Where did my father even come up with the idea? Last night was the first night things got a little…heated. I should have predicted he'd want to nip it in the bud, but the "after school special" moment was not called for. He knew Sasha and I hadn't talked about it yet. In fact, he'd already talked about this with Sasha.

I suddenly panicked. Was I being completely naïve? Had Sasha been sending me signals I was oblivious to? I settled myself down. No, he wouldn't do that. He was the one who slowed things down last night. I was the one who was pushing for…something.

_Was it sex?_ I finally asked myself. Or was it just intimacy? I was just having fun with my boyfriend! We should go back to Romania. Sasha and I would never be left alone again.

I stopped walking and leaned up against a tree. _Ugh. _I felt so lost. I hated it. Having all the knowledge in the world did not make a speck of difference. My hormones took precedent over my head and my heart wasn't making things any clearer. I hadn't even told Sasha how I felt about him yet.

_I hadn't told him._

I bit at the grin sliding over my face. I felt much lighter in one swift breath. That's what I could do to make this better. I could tell Sasha I…I loved him. Just thinking the words made my stomach tie up in knots, but in the best possible way. It would make Sasha so happy. I wanted to make him happy. That's what people in love do for one another.

I took off in a sprint. His trail was easy to follow. He kept to the path I had shown him several times already. I noticed his scent was taking me out several miles. Good. This would be so much easier without prying ears. I could see evidence of where he had stood to take in the view or where he leaned up against at tree to listen to the bird's sing. He was such a romantic cliché. I mused on that for a moment, but had to stop because the scent thinned out and disappeared—like I'd taken a wrong turn. It was so odd. It was completely gone. Not weak from age or covered by an animal, it was gone. In fact, everything was gone. I could barely even smell the wet moss or the mud under my shoes. The hair on the back of my neck stood up in alarm. My sense of smell was a vital part of me, and it was very disconcerting to suddenly be without it. I took a few steps back. Gradually, the forest came back into focus as did Sasha's scent. I didn't know which direction to go. The direction of the trail would lead me back into the nothingness. My instinct was telling me stay away from it. Did Sasha do this somehow? Some kind of old vampire trick? Why would he do something to make me so nervous?

I glanced in all directions, aimlessly looking for some kind of sign. I listened carefully to my surroundings, trying to recognize something in the midst of the forest chatter. And then I heard it…him.

_Jacob_.

Not as a wolf. His voice. Coming from the direction my senses were warning me not to go. I brazenly ignored them and followed the sound. Instantly my sense of smell cut out on me again. It was so uncomfortable to be without it, so I slowed down. The air became heavy, even though there wasn't a bit of fog in sight. It was in my head, in my chest, whatever _it_ was. My intuition pulled at me, begging me to turn around, but I had no choice. Jacob came back. What I would say when I found him I didn't know. I could only take one step at a time.

It was more difficult than any game of hide-and-seek I'd ever played. I kept reverting to my sense of smell, which failed me time after time. Maybe it wasn't the woods? Maybe it was me? Maybe I was having some kind of messed up growing pain. I had to slow down again. I was down to a human jog. I wasn't in pain, not really. But I couldn't focus with this tightness in my chest. Maybe I was having a panic attack again. I shook my head, but it didn't make any difference in clearing up the pressure. I was forced to stick with my memory of the trail. Thank God my memory was unaffected because after a few hundred yards I found him, both of them. Jacob was doubled-over on the ground and Sasha crouched over him. At least, I think it was Jacob. He looked nothing like my Jacob. He was thin and hollow like the life had been drained from him. My throat constricted, but it may have been from the air. It was even more stifling here than it had been those hundred or so yards out. I felt like I wasn't breathing properly. I took as huge a breath as possible and called out, "Jacob!"

Both he and Sasha turned around at the sound of my voice—like they hadn't sensed me coming up at all. Sasha looked absolutely horrified at my arrival, but I was distracted by Jacob who turned and started walking away. The time it took for him to stand up allowed me to catch him by the shoulder. "Jake! Stop!"

He shook me off with a violent tremor.

Suddenly, two hands were grasping me by the shoulders. "Nessie, you have to go home. Go home now!" Sasha shouted, his face contorting in alarm. He shoved me roughly in the opposite direction Jake was headed.

"What? No!" I yelled. Sasha eyes were darting throughout the forest around us. I couldn't take time to understand what he was panicked about. Was he worried about the pack? That must be it. There was no reason to worry about them. I pushed myself passed him and brought my attention back to Jake. I ran in front of him so he couldn't escape. "Jake, are you okay?"

"I only came to see Sasha," he said gruffly.

Never in my life had I seen Jacob sniffle, let alone look as ill as he was now. His muscles were thinned out. He had bruises beneath both eyes. His body was covered in dirt. I thought I would be offended by his odor, but once again, the air was affecting me and I couldn't smell anything. Maybe it was a good thing in this instance. "You're not well. Let's go home. We can call Carlisle."

"No!" he shouted at me. This time, I did retreat from him slightly.

I had no reason to fear Jacob. Why was I trembling? Why were there tears stinging my eyes? Jacob was supposed to make me happy, right? Seeing Jacob this way, sick and tired and revolted by my presence, did not make me happy. "Jacob, please," I begged quietly. "Let me help you." _Let me fix us._

He brushed past me and walked off for several paces. "You can't give me the help I need," he said under his breath.

"What are you talking about?"

Before I got an answer, Sasha was tugging on my arm again. "Nessie, you do not understand. Someone is here. You must go home."

I wasn't listening. I just needed to understand what was happening to Jacob. "What does Jake need?"

"That does not matter now," Sasha said lowly.

"Yes it does," I said, yanking my arm back. I didn't even try to hide my shock over his lack of concern for Jacob. I knew he was jealous, but that was no excuse. For the first time in weeks, I wished Sasha wasn't here. He was confusing me about some person being here when it was probably just Seth, not that I could tell with my nose still on the fritz. All that mattered right now was focusing on Jacob before he bolted again. "Why did you need to see Sasha?" I yelled at Jake.

Jacob stopped walking. His shoulders tensed. His neck was bent indicating his eyes were on the ground. What could Sasha possibly do that I couldn't? Except…my stomach bottomed out. "You can't…" I choked on my own voice. I looked over to Sasha, silently hoping he would tell me I was thinking the wrong thing. He didn't nod. He didn't shake his head. He just stood there, his eyes pained with regret.

I wasn't confused anymore. I was nothing but angry. I had been fighting so hard to communicate with Jacob. I begged his forgiveness and said I'd do whatever I could to make it right, and he decided to erase our entire past. Did it mean nothing to him? Didn't he think about what this would do to me? Or my mother? Or what it might do to him? There was no guarantee it wouldn't turn his brain to mush as it was. Why would he do something so cruel and incredibly stupid? I was furious. I was blinded by it. I closed the distance between Jacob and myself. He heard me coming and turned to face me again. I raised my hand. It moved so fast across his face I wasn't sure I hit him until I felt the sting on the palm of my hand.

"How could you?" I whispered harshly.

"I don't care," he whispered back. Didn't care about what? His life? My life? Did he stop caring about me? Did he, as my father predicted, heal while he was away? _Well, fine then!_ I wanted to shout at him. If he could remove me from his life, then so be it. I tried over and over again to fix this and he didn't want it. Imprinting meant nothing. It was just a way for the wolves to strengthen the pack. That's all it was. That's all Jacob and I would ever be.

"You don't get it," he sniffed. He pinched his eyes shut and covered them with his hand. He wiped at tears, smearing more dirt across his cheeks. "I love you. I can't live without you," he said in a voice so quiet and defeated all my fury went away. My heart fell apart. He wasn't healed. He was broken.

I couldn't bear to look back at Sasha. I feared if I took my eyes off of Jacob he would disappear by the time I looked back. I feared if I didn't turn around, Sasha would think I was changing my mind about us. I was barely hanging on to either man. And despite my demands to make my own choices and live my own life, I knew I only had one choice in front of me now. Imprinting didn't matter. Not really. My desire to help Jacob had nothing to do with some magical connection we shared. He was my friend. I couldn't leave a friend like this.

I stepped forward into Jacob's shadow. Even in his diminished form he still towered over me, but it felt different. I didn't feel like a child under his gaze because he wasn't looking at me like one. I lifted up my fingers toward his face. He flinched at first, prepared for another strike, but held still once my fingertips touched his chin, his nose. He closed his eyes when my hands skimmed over his eyelids, then finally rested on his cheek. He leaned into hand and it didn't feel like we were too close this time. _My Jacob_. "You'll always have me, Jake. I promise."

I waited for a glint of acceptance in his eyes. At first, I saw nothing but the emptiness which had been there from the start. And then suddenly, his face did change, but he wasn't looking at me. He turned his head, his face frozen in concentration as he listened.

"What is it?" I whispered.

"I don't know," he replied.

I listened and waited, but I didn't know what I was looking for. No longer distracted by Jacob and Sasha, I took note of the air again. It was still heavy and prevented me from sensing anything, even the scent of the pine. I didn't know if the stiffness in my chest was due to the air or due to being upset. I turned in place and I caught my foot under a large branch. I stumbled backwards, but caught myself right before I fell into Jacob.

_Stumble? I don't stumble._

_I don't have trouble breathing either._

_I don't lose my sense of smell._

_I don't get scared in the woods._

_I don't know what's happening. _

"Sasha?" I squeaked.

"Do not say anything," he said authoritatively. "Do not be afraid. And Jacob. Don't."

_Don't what? What isn't Jacob supposed to do?_

I heard footsteps, coming from different directions, approaching us slowly. I could even tell they were human. Vampires have a much quieter tread, like they have no real weight. These steps were sturdy. There were four or five of them, I thought. It would be so much easier to tell if I could smell them. I turned my head and looked around, but I couldn't see them, whoever they were.

The wind changed. At first, I was grateful. I hoped the wind would blow the offending fog away. The opposite event occurred. The fog intensified. I covered my nose to block it out, but my lungs heaved all the same. The cloud leaked into my head until I felt dizzy. Then I saw one. I thought I did. I blinked a few times and looked again. Yes, I saw someone. A ways off, but not far. Half of his body was tucked behind a tree. He wore beige trousers and green pants, giving him the slightest amount of camouflage. But that was diminished by the gleam of something bright red. He ducked away before I could identify it. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the glare of more red reflecting from the tiniest bit of sunlight that filtered through the trees. To my left there was a third one. Each time I turned my head I caught another shimmer of red. Could there really be that many? Or were they moving fast? Or was I moving slow?

I looked over to Sasha again, my eyes silently begging for an explanation. His eyes were closed. He took deep, slow breaths. I tried to make mine match, but the air got stuck in my throat and I had to fight the urge to cough. _I don't cough. _

"_De ce esti aici?_" Sasha's voice rang out clear into the trees. He kept his eyes closed. I wanted to do what he did, but I was too frightened to lose another one of my senses.

"_Stiti deja,_" said a man's voice. It came from somewhere behind me. He didn't yell like Sasha did, but I could still hear him. I turned to look and a bit of red flashed by. It clashed with the dewy green and still I only caught glimpses. I hardly saw the men…women…whoever was carrying the red.

"_Nu va mai exista violenta astazi aici. Nu dorim rau sa ai sau oricine_," Sasha spoke again.

"Nessie," Jacob whispered to me. "What are they saying?"

"Sasha asked why they were here. They said we should know. Sasha is telling them we don't wish to harm them."

"The man should speak for himself," Jacob growled. "Who are they?"

I shrugged my shoulders. Jacob was just as confused as I was and just as frightened. His skin was covered in gooseflesh and the hair on his arms stood on end. When Jacob was keyed up like this, it was only a matter of time before he phased. Why hadn't he phased? If we were in danger like we both sensed he should have by now. I recalled Sasha's command to Jacob. Was he warning Jacob not to change into a wolf?

"_Tu trebuie sa plece acum_," Sasha said without any waver in his voice.

"He told them to leave," I whispered to Jacob.

"That's one solution."

The people circling us didn't answer back. I heard their feet shuffle over the earth, snapping twigs and rustling the ferns. I think I could hear their hearts beating, but it got tangled up with my own and drowned out the sound. I felt trapped even though I couldn't see my captors. My eyes were too slow. I only saw glimpses of the red. But that was wrong. _I'm not slow_.

"Sasha?" I tried again.

He opened his eyes and smiled. Of all things, he _smiled_. It was a smile I hadn't seen in some time. It was small and sad. I hated that smile. It was the kind of smile that said goodbye.

"Count to three," he said calmly, like he was talking to a small child. "Then you and Jacob run."

I didn't have the courage to start counting, but Jacob was ready for any indication to move. He grabbed my arm as he bolted away and all of a sudden I was being pulled at a very fast pace against my will. How did he manage to move so fast? I couldn't make my legs move like his. He quickly caught on and hoisted me over his shoulder. How was he carrying me? Wasn't he just half-dead on the forest floor?

"Stop! Stop!" I shouted. I hit him with my fists for emphasis.

"He said to run!"

"No! He won't be able to outrun them! We have to go back!"

Jacob came to an abrupt halt and almost ran us into a tree. He set me down on the ground roughly. We were great distance away. I sucked in the most cleansing breath of my life. I could smell trees and moss and dirt again. My head felt like it was on straight. I even tried shifting my eyes from once place to another. There were fine. Everything was right again.

"Do you know who they are?" Jacob asked.

"I'm not sure. We have to find Sasha," I said as my heart pounded in my throat. Feeling rejuvenated, I took off back in the direction we came. Jacob followed close behind me.

"Are you going to explain what's going on? Where did they come from?"

"Romania?" My conclusion sounded like a guess. They were speaking Romanian. That much I knew.

Jacob stayed at my heels. "Are they hunting Sasha?"

Hunting? Why hunt Sasha? Sasha had never hurt anyone.

"Did he know he had vampire hunters on his tail?" he asked.

"What?" I shouted, but I kept moving. Visages of the cloudy air filtered through now and again. I ignored the internal warning bells that told me to turn around. "Vampire hunters? I don't know what you're talking about."

Jacob grabbed my forearm, forcing me to face him. His nose was right up to mine. He squeezed my arm so tight it hurt. "Nessie, I'm a vampire hunter," he hissed through his teeth. I cringed. "That's what I was born to do. And no group of humans ends up surrounding a pair of vampires unless they're looking for vampires."

"Sasha never mentioned anything like that," I hedged. Jacob kept his hand on me. I tried to gain a little composure. He had a point. Jacob didn't seem to be affected by the smell or lack of smell that was assaulting me when we were near the strangers. He could also move fast whereas I was tripping over myself and moving at a third of my normal speed. Whatever these strangers were, they were affecting me, not Jacob, indicating that vampires were their target. Either way, this seemed highly dangerous for Sasha because he could only move at the speed of a human regardless of hunters or whatever.

"What kind of humans hunt vampires?" Jacob asked in irritation. "They're going to get themselves killed."

The logic clicked into place. My heart sunk. "Gypsies," I exhaled.

"What?"

"Gypsies hunt vampires. Their blood kills vampires." The red. Could it be…blood? _Sânge_. Maybe they were tired of "giving their lives to the cause," as Sasha once said. What if they used weapons instead? Weapons were useless against us normally, but if laced with the toxic blood that naturally poisoned us? I didn't know. It was possible. They certainly wouldn't face us unarmed. I thought of the tiny vile sitting in a steamer trunk in my bedroom, the one I received from the old Gypsy woman in Uricani. What was it? Some kind of homing signal? _Home._ My parents were still at home. What if they had attacked the house first? "You have to go to my house," I said in a breathless rush.

"I'm not leaving you."

"They might have gone to my house first. My parents could be hurt!" No. Not hurt. If they Gypsies got to them they wouldn't be hurt, they'd be…I couldn't even think it.

Jacob weighed the logic. I could tell he was frustrated when he didn't come up with an argument. "Fine. I'll be right back. Don't move," he ordered. He took a second longer than he should have to stare at me, then he reluctantly turned, and phased, Sasha's warning forgotten. He looked a little stronger as a wolf, but still frail. He bounded off quickly toward the house and I was alone in the woods. Well, not completely alone.

He told me to stay put, but as soon as he was out of view my feet were moving in the opposite direction. Each step became heavier and slower. Each breath became more labored as I wandered back into the invisible fog. I stumbled yard after yard until the place I was standing with Sasha and Jacob was visible. Sasha was gone as were all the traces of red. I had to stop and catch my breath; the air so thick at this point, I could taste it.

I was lost in my own woods. The inability to use my sense of smell was maddening. I'd never find him without it. I slumped against a tree and closed my eyes, fighting back tears. _Where are you? _I remembered how Sasha's eyes were closed when the hunters first approached us. What was he doing then? Perhaps while I was standing in terror, he was listening for clues, figuring out the numbers and where they were standing. I swallowed the lump in my throat and just listened. My eyesight was now gone as was my sense of smell, but the darkness was comforting. My eyes may have moved too slowly before, but now they could relax and let my mind reconstruct what my ears told me. On my left, I could hear a hawk swoop down and just miss its prey. Above me the wind was moving softly through the branches. Leaves rustled in a timeless way that sounded soothing during the day and eerie in the evening hours. And footsteps. Rushing footsteps. At least six different pairs. They weren't far.

I took off toward the sound, my feet moving as fast as possible, though I could tell I wasn't moving with my usual pristine coordination. I kept moving. I followed the sound, not the smell. If they were running, they must be chasing. If they were chasing, then Sasha was still alive.

I was close when I caught something in the corner of my eye. Red. But it was not attached to any person. It was an arrow embedded in a tree. An archaic weapon. Bows and arrows against vampires? The idea was laughable. The red dripped down the bark. And suddenly there was a new scent, sweet but not sugary; spicy, but not fiery. Appetizing. My mouth watered without my permission. I wanted to touch it. I wanted to lick it off my fingertips. I took a step toward it, but stopped myself. _What am I doing? _It's a god damn arrow filled with poisonous blood. This fog was making me lose my mind.

I went back to my listening. The footsteps stopped and I panicked again. A voice gave me hope.

"_Timpul este pana_,_ vampir_!"

_No!_ His time could not be over. They needed to understand. We were not the enemy.

I ran as best I could and I saw him. I couldn't see all of the strangers, but I could see Sasha. He was trapped along the side of a cliff with no place to go. I stalled before I broke out into the open. Sasha was talking to them slowly and carefully.

"_Asculta_. _Eu nu sunt ce gindesti._" Maybe they were listening, but I had no way of knowing. I couldn't see any of them. I tried screaming to Sasha in my mind. If only my damn projecting would work without touching. _Use your power!_ I screamed from my mind. _Make them forget what they came here for! Make them forget what a vampire is!_ Sasha made no indication he could hear me or see me from where I was standing. Even if this fog wasn't surrounding us, he wouldn't be able to dodge an arrow. I had to intervene.

"Stop!" I screamed. My brain was unable to find my Romanian tongue. I put myself in front of Sasha. His eyes were open and shocked.

"Get away from here," he whispered sternly.

"I can make them understand," I promised. I turned around and saw nothing but trees. And red. It was constantly moving, dodging from my sight before I could focus. I took a breath and tried to steady my voice. "Listen to me. We aren't what you think we are. We're different. We don't want to hurt anyone." I couldn't see anything. Not even the red. They must have been standing still. They must have been listening. I stepped backwards until my back touched Sasha's chest. I blindly reached back to find his hand, but I grasped the fabric of his jeans instead. He took my hand. I wanted to show him an image of something quiet and safe, but all I could think of was the red. That couldn't possibly be comforting. He held on anyway. "We want to live peacefully. We have been doing so for centuries. Please, just go in peace." My voice wavered.

There was silence. It was endless.

"_We?_" someone whispered. The word was carried by the wind.

They…they didn't know what I was?

"_Ea este una_," someone said from the opposite direction.

Now they knew the truth.

"_Ce inseamna acest lucru_, _Nicolae_?"

Now they were debating the next course of action. Perhaps they were beginning to reconsider their chances of survival against two vampires. I still couldn't see the red. Their weapons were drawn back.

"_Inseamna ca sintem prea tirziu_."

_Too late?_ They said they were too late? They weren't thinking they were too late to kill Sasha; they were too late to save me. They followed me home because they were trying to protect me. How long had they been in Forks, in my woods, just waiting until Sasha was alone? I told him never to go out alone.

Sasha stepped in front of me so my back was pushed against the wall of the cliff. He turned his back toward the hunters.

"No." I whispered, unsure what I was saying no to.

"There is still time. Run…_please_," he begged. I hated the sound of desperation in his voice.

"Not without you," I said, despising the amount of desperation in my own voice. I couldn't run if I wanted to. I'd trip and fall and be shot with the red before I was a hundred feet away. This wasn't happening. We could be dead in a matter of seconds.

Something else was said by one of the strangers, but the pounding of my heart in my ears prevented me from hearing it. I didn't bother to look for the red or anything else. I was looking at Sasha's eyes. Blue. Clear. Perfect. Loved. If this was the last thing I saw before I died, I would be lucky. It was the best thing. I put my hand on his neck, threading my fingers through his hair. I pulled his face to mine. Our foreheads touched. I didn't close my eyes. I wanted him to see the love in mine.

Suddenly, a different kind of red flew in front of both of us, skidding through the dirt and sending debris everywhere. I'd never been so happy to see Jacob's rusty brown fur. He roared menacingly and felt so proud. Protected. Saved. My parents and Esme appeared seconds later, but their arrival wasn't sudden like Jacob's. I understood why. They couldn't be fast in this fog. Gypsies were meant to kill vampires and this clouding scent was a way to weaken vampires and level the playing field. I didn't know if Jacob explained this to my parents.

"Mom! Dad! You can't hurt them. Their blood will kill you!" I yelled. And their blood was far too appetizing to let any of it spill.

"I understand." my father said to me calmly and without a hint of fear. He wasn't as afraid of them as I was. They were human after all. "You have trespassed on our property and threatened my family. Leave. Now." My father growled loudly at them and Jacob shared in his enthusiasm. The strangers didn't respond. I heard the sound of hastening footsteps, but I didn't see the red. They must have reconsidered their chances against five vampires and a werewolf. They were leaving. Thank God.

I wrapped my arms around Sasha's middle. He hugged me back. I never wanted to let go. That's when he shoved me. Hard. I smacked the wall behind me and almost fell to the ground. A few smashed rocks crumbled at my feet. I would have broken something if I had been born a little less indestructible.

And then I saw it. Red.


	25. Where Are You My Angel Now?

**Chapter XI: Where Are You My Angel Now? **

When I was two years old, I fell out of a tree.

It was brutally windy that day. My parents told me not to play outside, but I grabbed Jacob and went off anyway. I disobeyed them. Jacob never could tell me no. I wanted to be outside. I wanted to climb our tree. The hail came down suddenly. Jacob was trapped at the bottom of the tree, unable to climb in his wolf form. He whined and barked at me to come down. But for some reason, I climbed higher. I wanted to touch the dark clouds. I wanted to see the trees whipped by the force of the wind. Between the slick branches and the violent winds, I was knocked from my perch and fell to the earth. I panicked as I plummeted and was unable to grab hold of a branch or land on my feet. The force of the fall knocked the breath from my lungs and caused a shooting fire to erupt up and down my spine. I wasn't broken. I survived. However, it was first time in my life I realized I could feel pain. Physical pain. Before that moment, pain was meaningless to me. It was just a concept, an idea. I'd never skinned my knee or broken my arm. I'd never had a stomach ache or a fever. I thought I was as unbreakable as my family.

I was wrong. And despite the lesson I learned, I still didn't understand his face, all twisted up. I didn't understand the heavy pants coming from his throat. I didn't understand why my grandmother was on the phone desperately trying to reach my grandfather. It was unreal. It wasn't happening.

The red was almost gone. All that was left was a clear tube with sticky red residue that clung to the interior. It was lodged into his side. He grasped at it; his fingers crumpled up like broken tree branches. His efforts were in vain. This was just another way in which we could break. Even he was not unbreakable. Even he could feel pain.

It wasn't until he fell to his knees that I moved. I dove for him. I let him lean into me. His face was scrunched up. I couldn't even see his eyes.

He put himself in front of the fire to protect me. I held him when I thought the danger was gone. But that fog…that damn insidious fog that clouded up my senses. I didn't smell the human, or see him, or hear him. Sasha knew better what to listen for. He heard the trigger pull. The Gypsy was probably trying to shoot us both while we were embraced. Kill two birds with one stone. Sasha…pushed me. He shoved me out the line of fire at the last possible moment. But he wasn't fast enough. And now he was lying on the ground with the poison in his side, unable to catch his breath, squirming around like fish out of water, pawing at his wound. Pain.

I didn't know what to do. I never learned how to heal. I'd barely known pain. I blindly reached for the arrow.

"Do not touch it," he hissed through his teeth. "It is poisoned."

_I know that. _

"What can I do?" I mumbled.

"Nothing," he murmured. His legs jerked out underneath him. His hands reached aimlessly around in the grass and pine needles.

_I know it's poisoned._

"Don't worry. Everything is going to be fine," I whispered. My words held no confidence, only desperation. "Carlisle is coming."

_Tell me something else._

"Nessie, I am sorry."

I run my hand over his forehead, pushing his hair out of his eyes. He blinked wearily at me. "Don't talk," I ordered. He was unable to hold himself up at all, so I rested his head against my lap. I continued to push my hand through his hair and over his forehead. He was sweating. He still couldn't breathe. How did Jacob help me to breathe when the wind was knocked out of me? I put my hand on his chest and tried to force him to follow my breaths, but I was breathing too quickly as well.

_Tell me how to stop it. _

"I am sorry," he repeated.

"For what?" I whimpered.

"For being so damn slow," he muttered before his voice was seized with a coughing fit.

I thought I laughed. It may have just sounded like hysterics. His cough eventually subsided.

"You're such an idiot," I said without thinking. "You're going to be fine, okay?"

_Tell me how to fix it. _

"It is better this way. Safe," he murmured. His eyes fell closed. "You are safe. Safe." He sounded like he was praying.

Yes, I was safe. But better? Better than what? "You're not making sense." Neither did the clammy feel to his skin. Neither did the sputtering of his voice. It was almost like he was…human. Closer to being human than me.

His eyes were still closed. I shook him. "Hey! Open your eyes. Stay awake. Carlisle is coming." Because he would come. He would run the moment he knew of the danger Sasha was in and he would fix it. My grandfather could fix anything.

_Tell me what I need to know. _

His eyelids fluttered open. His eyes were the same—perfect and shocking as ever. His hand shook as he lifted it to my face. His icy fingertips stroked my cheek. My eyes closed. I'd wanted this intimacy, this closeness. He was touching my face. He wasn't supposed to touch my face.

_Don't do this to me._

I took hold of his hand and forced it away from my cheek. I clutched it between both of my own. "Don't!" I shouted. His face was startled. I thought I relaxed my voice, but it didn't sound relaxed. "I don't want that. I don't want to forget."

He smiled at me, only halfway this time. The look on his face was one of relief, but not from the pain. His chest continued to heave. His muscles of his hand twitched within my grasp.

Somewhere in my consciousness, I was aware I was being watched. I wanted us to be alone. I wanted us to be in the living room of my cottage, arguing about the allegorical nature of some novel, sneaking kisses when my parents were out of the room. But that wasn't going to happen. It was never going to happen again. I bent forward, connecting my forehead to his, just like I had moments ago. It felt like we were alone, just barely.

He spoke softly, his voice fading. "You woke up my sleeping heart. I thought it had known all the love it would ever know, but you…"

"Shhh," I pleaded again.

_Why are you saying this me?_

"Please don't leave me. I just found you," I begged.

_I love you._

I opened my eyes to see if he heard me. The smallest nodding of his head told me he had. I wanted to do it better. I wanted it to bring him happiness.

"It does," he promised. His body tensed and relaxed. His fingers weren't seizing as tightly.

"Good. Then that's all we need."

_We're going to be fine. We love each other. We're going to be happy._

I promised him. He shook his head.

"_You_ are going be fine," he whispered.

_You're wrong_.

I placed both my hands on either side of his face and kissed him hard. My heart ached, hoping some speck of magic inside me would make itself known. Somehow, my kiss would awaken him like a reverse _Sleeping Beauty_.

Beneath my lips, I felt his body relax completely, but it felt wrong. I lifted my face only an inch from his. His eyes were no longer his. They were empty. He was gone. I leaned my forehead against his neck hearing nothing but my heart's slow and insistent beats. I wanted them to stop. I wanted them to stop extending my life when the thing I wanted most was lying dead next to me. I don't know how long I had been sitting there when I was pulled away.

Cradled in someone's arms, I looked up into the sky. The clouds had turned darker. Once again, I had climbed too high and crashed down back down to the earth. This pain was something new, and it swallowed me whole.


	26. Don't You See Me Crying?

**Chapter XII: Don't You See Me Crying? **

"_How is she?"_

"_Is she still asleep?"_

I listened to them murmur inquiries of distress repeatedly outside my door while I drifted in and out of consciousness. I devoured sleep. I longed for the quiet and the darkness to take me under. It came easily.

"_What happened?"_

"_Where are they now?"_

My aunts and uncles returned from their trip. They were angry so much danger came while they were away. There was a great deal of shouting at some point. I let them argue.

They wanted to talk to me, comfort me. And they came in my room, but I did not speak. I had no voice. They tried to touch my hands so they could hear me. I couldn't stand it. I didn't want them there, in my room or in my mind. My reaction was visceral. I tore my hands away with a fierce hiss. My relatives tried to hide their shock, but I could read the fear in their eyes. My father insisted they leave me alone. He was the only one who knew the respite my dreamless sleep provided.

"_She needs to hunt."_

"_She refuses." _

The itch in my throat began to burn as the days passed. My muscles ached with the desire to be revitalized. I didn't want to hunt. They brought me blood but I refused to drink it. They placed it on my nightstand and left the room. I threw it at the back of my door when it closed, shattering the plastic cup. Someone cleaned it up while I slept.

I liked the burn. I didn't want to lose it. The burn forced me to focus on it. It distracted me from the hole in my chest.

"_It wasn't her fault, Edward."_

"_It doesn't matter."_

It was my fault. I killed him.

* * *

It wasn't a dream that woke me. I awoke and I was in a dream. It was the burn in my throat. It was dry and scorching hot. It was a fire that erupted through my body, demanding my muscles to obey its will. I complied, but my actions were not my own. Reality felt like a dream. A blur of trees whipped past me as the alluring scent pulled at the burn. I took no time for stealth and the animal sensed me before I came upon it. But the burn was so much faster; blinding white heat that was finally doused by the rich lukewarm blood that flowed through my teeth. When the animal was dry, I could see again. I was no longer in a dream. There was a lifeless deer lying in front of me and darkness everywhere else. I tried to recall the last time I fed. I couldn't remember. I only knew I'd never gone so long without feeding before.

The blood in my system roused me. Some of the aches went away. I knew if I spoke my voice would return. My mind cleared and I could see past the haze of bloodlust again. I wiped the residue of blood from my mouth with the back of my hand and stared at it. Red.

Red…blood… It was supposed to give life, not take it away. Blood sustained and strengthened me. Now it made me sick. I wanted to vomit. I wanted to purge myself of this addiction, this substance. I didn't want to be part of it anymore. If I wasn't, he would still be alive. I would have never known him if I was only human, but that would have been better.

He would be alive and I wouldn't be responsible for his death.

"You were wrong," I whispered. There was no one to hear me. It didn't make it less true. Sasha promised it would be better without him, but he was wrong.

I covered the deer and walked back toward the cottage, feeling simultaneously fulfilled and nauseated by my meal. I noticed my clothing was stained by the hunt. My clothes weren't old. Someone had dressed me, possibly bathed me, while I was asleep. I wished it was raining. I didn't want to see the blood on my skin run down the drain when I showered.

I was just upon the edge of the forest when I realized my family wasn't out on the lawn awaiting my return. There was no doubt they heard me leave, but the fact that they didn't follow me or lie in wake of my return surprised me. There was someone waiting, however. He was standing alongside the house, in the spot he had slept a thousand times before.

"Jacob," I said. My voice was rough. He looked up at the sound of it, noticeably worried. I was barefoot, my hair windblown, and my clothing bloodstained. The glass of the window I had undoubtedly jumped from when I awoke in my state of bloodlust was smashed. I hadn't even taken time to open it.

"Hey," he said gently as he made his way toward me. His clothing was neat and new. They hadn't been washed once yet. Alice must have been anxious. I imagined they were all anxious now, awaiting my return to reality. "Would you go for a walk with me?" he asked. I didn't want to go in there and face their sympathy, so I nodded.

We slowly made our way down the river without speaking. I was glad he was quiet. I knew my parents would have wanted me to eat or talk or do something productive. Jacob skipped a stone across the river. I sat on the damp grass, wrapped arms around my knees and buried my face into them. I felt Jacob sit down next to me. I could feel the heat radiating from his body. I turned my head to look at him. He was probably relieved I wasn't crying.

"How are you?" he bravely asked.

I had no answer. "You look better," I deflected. Jacob looked like himself again. He was clean, filled out, his hair was combed, and his face regained its color. The only thing that was the same as the broken Jacob I had seen that day was the bruises under his eyes. He'd been awake all that time I was asleep.

"Yeah, I was stupid. I wasn't taking care of myself. I'm sorry if you were worried," he said.

Jacob didn't fool me. Of course I was worried, but that was not why he said it. _I_ was not taking care of _myself_. _He_ was worried about _me_. I refused to acknowledge the meaning behind his words. But Jacob was kind. He did not push, not yet. He saw me as fragile, and maybe I was. He changed his strategy and moved onto something practical.

"Your family is pretty divided on what to do next. Rosalie thinks you should move immediately, but Carlisle thinks the danger is gone. Edward believes the Gypsies have returned to Romania anyway, so I don't think there's a real reason to leave."

I nodded. I had caught only pieces of their arguing. The Gypsies had expected one vampire, not five. And even if their numbers were great enough to take on nine vampires, they wouldn't go up against a pack of wolves.

I appreciated Jacob's efforts to let me dwell on something different, to put off talking about that day for a little while longer. He was a good man. He was more intuitive on how to deal with me than my family was. The significance of that dawned on me suddenly. I took a breath to steady myself.

Jacob would become my comfort. It was the only way he could be. That was the magic of imprinting, of us. I wanted to accept it and fall into it completely because the guilt and the sadness were overwhelming. Yet, I was mourning the loss of my _boyfriend_. How could I accept comfort from Jacob? I had been fighting our connection for over a year. To want it now, was it not an insult to Sasha's memory? And why should Jacob have any desire to comfort me? He nearly killed himself when I rejected him. He demanded to forget me. It was twisted and cruel to both of us.

My eyesight turned blurry as tears welled up. "I don't know what this means, Jacob," I rasped. I never figured out what Jacob was supposed to be to me. Maybe my relationship with Sasha had been a confused attempt at avoiding the situation entirely. No, that wasn't right. I loved Sasha. I was sure of it. Jacob had even known it to be true. But Sasha was gone now…and I still had Jacob, but Jacob might not want anything to do with me anymore. _Godammit!_ It was so confusing. I couldn't think about fate or destiny anymore. It was too hard and my heart hurt too much to try to rationalize it.

"What are you talking about?" Jacob said, taken aback by the tears streaming down my face. He was wary of touching me, though I could tell he wanted to.

"I don't know what this means for you and me," I said through a cough. I struggled to keep my chest from heaving.

"What about you and me? I don't understand."

"You don't have to do this. You don't have to be here for me," I whimpered.

"Why wouldn't I be here for you?"

Was he serious? Did he need a recap of the last two months? I grabbed his wrist. I didn't show him everything. I wasn't ready to share my memories of Sasha with anyone, but I showed him that day. The moments where he begged me to let him go because he couldn't stand to see me with another man. Jacob winced as he relived it. He didn't like seeing himself that way, but he had to. I wouldn't force him to be kind if he didn't want to, if it was only because of the imprinting. He clasped his large hand around my thin wrist and removed it from his arm while shaking his head adamantly.

"Ness, no. I was wrong. I was stupid. I always want you to be in my life," he promised.

Even that promise I couldn't believe. I wanted to trust him and believe his words, but his actions were too fresh in my mind. And my heart. _My_ _heart_. It was still Sasha's. It was his. And this ache in my chest told me it always would be. "I need you to know, I really…love him," I choked. I couldn't say it right. I couldn't say, I _loved_ him. To say that he was gone would make it true. And it _hurt_.

"Ness," he interrupted me and scooted closer. He put his arm around my waist and pulled me to his chest. The warmth was unbelievable. Part of me wanted it; part of me wanted to force him to let go. "I know you love him. You wouldn't be hurting like this right now if you didn't." His hold on me was tense, but I was glad it was that way. My body was tight too—like a coil about to spring. We weren't reaching some kind of epiphany about ourselves. We were just trying to survive. "I know we've struggled, but I'll be here for you. I will. I swear."

I wanted to refuse because I knew it was the right thing to do. It was unfair to him. It was unfair to me. But he was offering, and my heart hurt so much; a little more pain wasn't going to make a difference.

The tears continued to fall. We sat there for a long time. Jacob shifted when his muscles became stiff.

"You should hunt again," he said. He was right. One meal after several weeks was not enough. But that wasn't what he meant. No, Jacob didn't fool me. If I hunted, I would be strong again, physically at least. I would have to function and talk and interact with the people around me. I would have to stop wallowing and fully accept the pain.

I disengaged myself from Jacob's arms. I walked a few steps until I was standing in the river. The slow current swished over my toes. It wasn't deep enough to swim in. I could go to the lake. "I have to tell Ántonia," I thought out loud. The lake was where I had shared my secrets with her. Romania is where she shared her own secret with me, Sasha. She didn't know he was gone. "Will you come with me?" I asked, keeping my eyes on the forest. I'd never know what Jake's true reaction was to that question—if he was disgusted or shocked. He didn't like Ántonia, and he wouldn't want to be any place where Sasha and I shared so many memories. If he felt either of those things, I'd never know it, because his voice betrayed nothing when he ultimately agreed.


	27. When Will You Realize?

**Chapter XIII: When Will You Realize? **

My parents were hesitant to let me go again. That was putting it mildly. They knew, as well as I, that my trip was potentially dangerous. They suggested they accompany me, but we didn't know the extent of the Gypsy population in Romania, and the Gypsies knew what to look for, and my family would stand out. I insisted they stay put for their own protection. I despised the irony.

My parents never actually agreed, but it didn't matter. I was going. They were appeased minutely when I informed them Jacob would be going with me and after I promised repeatedly it would be a short trip. Just enough time to see Ántonia and let her know her one true friend in the world had been taken from it.

I arrived at the castle in the late afternoon. The sun was hot and scorching the overgrowth climbing over the heavy stone. Jacob and I stood at the door for some time. The sound of thunder rumbled over the mountains.

"I think you should stay out here," I told Jacob. He stiffened, ready to disagree. He hadn't allowed me out of his reach since we arrived at the airport in Timisoara. I put my hand on his forearm just as he was about to object. "I won't be long," I promised. Jacob sighed, but stepped back a few feet, pretending to be interested in the nearby trees. While he had taken to keeping a close eye on me, he had also stopped picking fights when he recognized I had made up my mind about something. Perhaps, he figured I got enough of that from my parents.

I was unsurprised to find the heavy front door unlocked. It closed with a _thud_ that resounded down the cold, dark hallway. I followed the stone path, my heart pounding harder with each step. The rooms were unchanged. Everything was in the place I last remembered seeing it. Ántonia might have been the only vampire in existence that didn't mind clutter.

The way I found Ántonia was quite uninteresting. She was sitting in the central hub of the castle skimming through one of the faded brown volumes of Russian literature. It was astoundingly typical. Her dark, ancient dress, her smooth blonde hair, everything was the same down to the bright shine of her eyes when she saw me standing in her doorway.

"Nessie, my dear, my dear!" she exclaimed. "You have come back to visit me so soon?" She stood up and approached me with delight. I held up a hand which instructed her stop. She did so immediately. Ántonia wouldn't have touched me, but I didn't want her to express any affection toward me. I didn't deserve it. Confusion set into her eyes, extinguishing the shine that had just been there. I wished I would have known then that this was the last time I would ever see it. "What is the matter, my dear? I am happy to see you."

"I am happy to see you too, Ántonia," I said flatly. I wished I could be happy to see her. Ántonia meant a great deal to me, but Sasha would always be more important to Ántonia than I was. I was prepared to lose her as a result of delivering this news; after all, it was my fault Sasha was in Forks without Ántonia's protection. I would still miss her. "I'm afraid I'm not here to visit. I came here to inform you of an accident. Sasha is gone." I regretted my abruptness, my formality, but I don't think I could have delivered the news any other way.

Ántonia was eerily still; even the ends of her white-blonde hair were motionless. "Gone?" Her voice fluttered uncharacteristically.

"He died," I choked out. I wrung my hands together and stared at the wood grain of the floor. "He was killed by a band of Gypsy vampire hunters. They followed us all the way to Forks. He died protecting me."

The skirt of Ántonia's long dress_ whooshed_ as she turned away abruptly and took a few steps toward a shelf of books. She placed her hand on the shelf as if she was using it to hold her weight up, but she did not appear to be unbalanced. "You and he, were you…?"

"Yes. We were," I replied, understanding what she meant, what she had probably anticipated since she met me.

"I see," she replied.

I didn't know how she would take it. Ántonia lived a life of quiet, yet explicit restraint. She had to restrain her thirst for blood and her even greater hunger for power. She had to resist touching anyone ever and lived in hiding for her own protection and the protection of others. Ántonia went centuries without physical contact from any person, while her only social and emotional connection had been Sasha. I knew he meant the world to her, yet she revealed absolutely none of her feelings. Always mysterious. Always enigmatic. If it had been irritating before, it was completely maddening now. How could she say nothing as if she had barely known him? She had been the one who brought us together in the first place.

"Why did you push us together?" I asked harshly.

"Several reasons," she muttered toward the bookcase.

"Like what?"

Ántonia turned back toward me, ignoring my immature tone. She managed to remain in control of her emotions while mine spiraled out of control. "I thought the two of you would bring out the best in each other. You are always trying to fight your destiny. Sasha put a great deal of faith in the universe. Sasha feared his abilities. You look for ways to use power to aid the world." Each explanation snapped like a whip. I did my best not to flinch as she said them. "And I thought you would make each other happy. Was I wrong?"

Still standing in the threshold, I took a step to the side so I could lean against the cool stone. "No," I said quietly. I recognized that Ántonia pushed Sasha and me together, just as my parents had pushed me together with Jacob. Their reasoning wasn't even all that different, aside from imprinting. I resented my parents for their matchmaking. Why didn't I resent Ántonia? For that matter, why did I resent my parents so much?

"I suppose this may change your path. Unfortunate," Ántonia stated.

I placed my temple against the stone wall, letting the coldness wash over the growing tension in my head. "What are you talking about?" I mumbled.

Ántonia exhaled dramatically. Her fingers clenched into fists that she quickly placed behind her back. "Have you ever asked yourself, Renesmee, why I took _you_ on a trip around the world?"

Her question struck me as odd. I lifted my head up from the wall and answered automatically. "You wanted me to learn new things. You gave me the opportunity to make decisions on my own."

The way she shook her head made it very apparent my answer was incorrect. "Whatever happened to my intuitive girl?" she laughed humorlessly. "Love always clouds things."

I was incredibly confused and far too emotional to follow her logic. "Ántonia, please make your point," I halfheartedly pleaded.

"I told you the first time I met you," she said simply. "You have begun a revolution. You are the key to the change of powers over our kind. I introduced you to all those creatures, those people, so you would have them to call upon when the time came to fight. When you were ready to unite the world against fear and corruption," she stated seriously. Ántonia was sounding too much like a bad comic book. My mouth actually fell open.

"This is insane!" My voice shook as I pushed off the wall, hugging my arms around my body. "You always told me to find ways other than violence."

"I said nothing about violence," she said calmly, as if she were speaking of something so plain it was crazy I didn't already know. "I have been training to you find peaceful ways to end violence and perhaps lead us all toward a brighter future."

"You said anyone who thinks they can control vampires has gone mad," I argued.

"Do you wish to _control_ vampires?" she asked severely.

I shook my head vehemently. I hated when anyone tried to control me. Controlling others was the last thing I was interested in doing.

"No, you do not. You wish for peace." The gentleness returned to Ántonia's voice, but there was a feel of exhaustion there as well, more mental than physical.

"I couldn't do that for Sasha. He died trying to protect me! If I couldn't solve a miniscule battle with humans, how could I ever take on the Volturi?"

"Perhaps losing Sasha was part of your destiny. A lesson you needed to learn. Any kind of fight of this magnitude will have casualties."

All my senses were now clouded by rage. Now Sasha was a casualty in an imaginary war I didn't even want to fight. And _destiny_. How dare she throw that in my face? She wasn't trying to lead me to my own destiny. She was manipulating me into a role I didn't desire. It was my parents all over again, only this was much worse. Sasha _died_ because of what she was trying to manipulate. "Enough with destiny! This isn't something I have to accept! I don't have to fight the Volturi! I don't have to be some kind of savior! If you want to change the future then you do it!" I shouted.

In a blink Ántonia was standing directly in front of me. She was a few inches shorter than me, but more fierce and frightening than I could ever be. "Do you think I have not tried? I would be a force even more evil and dark then the Italians are now if I let my desire for power consume me," she seethed, her voice barely above a whisper. Seeing how I cringed, she stepped back. "But I saw my purpose in you. I could guide you and help you. You, Nessie," she whispered reverently. She rarely called me by my preferred name, opting for _my dear_ instead. "You are this small, wonderful person who can create light even in the greatest darkness. Maybe you are not the person I imagined. But you still could be."

I had no capacity to accept or understand what she was saying. Was this something I even wanted? I always felt there was something greater meant for me, without any thoughts to the specifics. Don't all young people foolishly believe they're going to be something great one day? According to my parents; well, according to every person I'd ever encountered, I already was something great. My existence as a hybrid was simply miraculous. However, I'd met other hybrids and I was no more extraordinary than any of them. I was no more extraordinary than any vampire. Ántonia could have found someone else, someone stronger, and manipulated his or her destiny. But she chose me. The qualities she saw that could make me a leader had nothing to do with being a hybrid. It was my intelligence, my intuition, and my propensity to love. And honestly, she had never forced me to do anything. She didn't force me to travel with her, listen to her, or fall in love with Sasha.

Before I could formulate something like an apology, Ántonia started walking away in the direction of her study. "Ántonia—"

"Thank you for bringing Sasha's demise to my attention," she said curtly over her shoulder. "I will assure you I am deeply affected by it. You are always welcome here," she added just before she moved out of my sight.

Despite her sentiment, I no longer felt welcome in this castle I had once thought of as a second home. With no desire to stay here any longer, I let my eyes rest on the room believing this would be the last time I would ever see it. Memories flooded back to me. The days we spent chatting by the fire, the afternoons we spent discovering new passages in books and reciting them to one another, and the times we bickered, which always ended with us laughing at some sort of nonsense. I squeezed my eyes shut, but tears fell down my cheeks anyway. I wiped at the moisture with the heel of my hand.

I couldn't leave just yet. There was one more thing that I needed to see. I quickly found my bedroom. Just like everything else, it was exactly the same as the first time I had seen it, waiting to sprinkle its magic on another unsuspecting soul. And there on the wall was the woman with near black eyes who had been there for a thousand years, sad and lonesome. The first woman that Sasha loved. I felt like this woman. Hell, I was this woman. Except, I still had him. I could have let him destroy the memory and possibly never experienced this suffering, but nothing would have been worth losing him completely, even if my eyes looked like hers for the rest of my life.


	28. That I Have My Troubles Too

**Chapter XIV: That I Have My Troubles Too **

It was a long plane ride back to Washington, leaving me with a great deal of time to think. Ántonia's complex plan for my life ran through my head over and over again. In the time I spent rationalizing it, I realized she had some moments of sanity. I did want something more than what had been offered to me thus far, but overthrowing the Volturi? Most vampires wouldn't think of that unless they wanted to risk their lives. The topic came up often when I was traveling with Ántonia, when we were safely beneath the blanket of her stealth and secrecy. I had always considered the discussion in theory, not practice, but what was the point of the talk if one never acted upon it? Perhaps Ántonia thought I would carry on her work and encourage my family to follow her plans. In actuality, I hadn't thought of much else besides Sasha and me since he and I got together.

I was no revolutionary. I was a selfish, lovesick girl.

Jacob dropped me off in front of the house with little fanfare. We barely spoken since we'd left the castle, so why start now? A simple wave and a promise to call me the next day was all he offered. I appreciated it. That was all I needed.

My mother was sitting in the living room when I entered the house with a leather travel bag on my shoulder. Just her. No one else, despite the fact that I'd been gone for several days. For the first time in seven years, I was not the center of attention. There were no lights on, and the overcast sky prevented the sun from illuminating the space. Regardless, my mother sat with a book in her lap. She closed it quietly when she saw me come in from the foyer. "Welcome home, sweetheart," she murmured.

I didn't know why those words broke me. Perhaps I'd been quiet for too long, alone for too long, despite how much I may have wanted that at one time. It was too much for any one person to handle. I crumpled to the floor. My chest seized up as painful sobs wracked my body. Tears stung my eyes with no foreseeable way to stop them.

My mother was there at my side, protecting me from the hardwood floor. She rocked me as I moaned and wailed nonsense. She flinched when my hands flashed picture after picture of Sasha's lifeless face, but she didn't let go. My mother kissed me and cradled me like she had when I was very young, when she believed I was going to be ripped from her. Overwhelming guilt crushed me that she had indeed gone through that, only it hadn't been the Volturi who tore me away; it had been my own doing. And still, she held me when I was falling apart.

* * *

"Was it very bad?" my mother whispered. I'd counted the ticks of the clock as I cried; my sobbing finally subsided about thirty minutes ago. She had coaxed me to the comfort of the sofa. We left the lights off. I lay on my side with my head in her lap as she slowly ran her fingers through my tangled airplane hair.

"Yes," I whispered back. I tried to imagine what Ántonia was doing right now, since it couldn't possibly be what I was doing. She was alone, but I had no doubt her pain was comparable to my own. I wondered if Sasha's paintings were still there or if Ántonia ripped them from their mounts and destroyed them in her grief. It seemed like a natural reaction, and yet, I couldn't quite envision it. Could Ántonia ever let herself lose control like that? "It's hard to know what Ántonia is thinking, but I'm sure she hates me." I swallowed. I'd failed to protect her best friend. I'd failed to follow through on her plans. Of course, my mother did not know that, and I had no idea how to begin to tell her about it.

"Ántonia cares about you. She doesn't hate you," my mother said easily.

Tears continued to slip sideways down my face even though I believed there couldn't be another tear in my body. I debated going into Ántonia's plans for me. Somehow, I couldn't make my mouth form the words. Ántonia's ideas were dangerous and so volatile. Simply giving my family knowledge was risky. Ántonia had given—or forced—this burden on me. I needed it hidden for a little bit longer. I would keep it safe and in turn keep my family safe. I'd kept secrets before and I was confident I could do it again.

"She'll never forgive me," I said instead, keeping the conversation from that hidden path.

"Would Sasha have forgiven you?"

"Sasha is gone," I said harshly.

"He had no regrets. Those were his own words," she murmured. The words were etched into my mind. Sasha had spoken reverently about how our love woke up his sleeping heart. Although he had many fears, he had no regrets about pursuing it. And in refusing to let him erase my memories, I proved to him that I did not regret it either. "Ántonia knew following you here was the right thing for Sasha. And she loves you for loving him."

I closed my eyes, searching for darkness. Even with the lights off, I could see too much.

"Ántonia may be angry right now, but when she remembers that she'll realize there's nothing to forgive," my mother carefully reasoned.

_Nothing to forgive? _That was very difficult for me to accept. I didn't forgive myself and I probably never would. This was just my mother insisting once again that no one was at fault the day that Sasha died. But someone had to take responsibility and she wasn't going to convince me otherwise, not today anyway.

Her statement, however, led me to think about forgiveness and everything I had done to wrong her. I wanted that behind us. I didn't have it in me to fight anymore. "Do you forgive me?" I inquired, my voice sounding weak.

My mother knew I wasn't talking about Sasha's death because as she previously stated, she believed nothing needed to be forgiven on that subject. Everything else between us had yet to be addressed. And truth be told, it never would be beyond this night. Everything else that we fought and argued about had suddenly become so trivial, it didn't require additional attention.

"I forgive you, Renesmee," she cooed, sliding her cool fingers through my hair once again. Her gentle tone offered me the promise of her sincerity.

"I love you, Momma" I replied. It had been so long since I called her by that endearment. My mother and I had failed to communicate on so many levels, but I hoped in that one word she would know that never did I stop loving her. I never would.

"I'll always love you, baby."

Sleep took me that night in a sweep of jetlag, remorse, and absolution. For a fleeting moment, I felt terror at the idea that every night would feel this way, but it was soon calmed by the gentle touch of my mother's hand.


	29. Epilogue

**Epilogue: **

_Six months later…_

I sat alone in the cottage putting the finishing touches on a watercolor still life of a vase of lilies. Not the most provocative subject matter, but it was raining so painting outdoors was impossible. I'd painted dozens of inconsequential masterpieces in the past few months, and filled ten notebooks with charcoal sketches. Esme didn't mind buying me more paint when I asked for I'd didn't read very often anymore, only occasionally to help Jacob. it. I'd just finished the petals of one of the blooms when Jacob walked through the front door with a scowl on his face and a backpack in hand.

"So, how was your day?" I asked genially.

"Awful," Jake grunted as he thrust his backpack on the ground. "Going back to high school after dropping out for years is not fun." He fell like a tree onto the couch, throwing his arm over his eyes dramatically.

"It's not high school. You're getting your GED," I offered. He wasn't even anywhere near his high school. He had to drive to Port Angeles to take special courses. The commute annoyed Jake. It was part the reason he always came home cranky.

"Same difference," he huffed.

I set my brush down and crossed the room to join him on the couch. "Well, imagine how I felt when my mom told me you never graduated?"

"What are you talking about?" he said incredulously. "You never graduated either!"

I had never earned a degree of any sort, though my father told me regularly it would be a simple task for me if I wanted to go to school. I just didn't see the point. I had no desire to fit into the mundane, human world, which was the exact reasoning Jake had used when he decided not to pursue anymore schooling at seventeen. So why was I making him go? Well, to be honest, neither Jake nor I had much direction in our lives. And I may have been delaying making decisions for myself by making plans for Jacob. It's not like he could get a good job without a high school diploma at least. We didn't want for money, but Jake would go stir crazy without a job and I'd go crazy having Jake hang around me _all_ the time.

"And you didn't say your first sentence when you were a week old," I argued. I wasn't going to admit to living vicariously through his accomplishments. He'd throw the whole deal if I confessed to that. "If you had spent your time going to school instead of following me around all day while I was growing up you would have been done years ago. Besides, think of how proud Billy will be when you get your diploma."

"But that won't be for months," he moaned as he lifted his arm away from his face. That's when he turned on the puppy dog eyes. "Can't I just use one of Edward's diplomas? He's got ten of them at least."

I rolled my eyes. I wasn't going to allow Jake to ask my parents for a forged document when he could so easily finish the task himself. "It will all be worth it when you're done," I hedged. Jake just shrugged his shoulders. "In the meantime, keep hitting the books and maybe you can take the test early."

Jacob grunted in disagreement. I patted his leg twice as I got up to grab one of his practice test books from my bedroom. He left his books here most of the time. I was convinced he spent zero time studying when he was on his own with Billy or the pack. I was disappointed because Jacob was a determined individual. Some habits are impossible to pick up again once one gets out of practice, apparently. The second I stepped out of the living room I heard a loud _thunk _against the wall.

"Don't literally _hit_ the books!" I yelled back to Jake.

"Sorry," he called back in a sing-song voice.

The book rested on my bedside table, precisely where Jacob left it when he decided geometry was "pointless". I picked up the thick text and tucked it under my arm. I braced myself for Jake's ten-minute whine fest I would inevitably endure when I noticed an unusual rustling flutter in with a gust of wind. There was a new window in place, similar to the one I'd smashed months ago. And there, on the windowsill, was a folded piece of paper held down by the weight of a rock that must have come from the banks of the river. I quickly dashed to the window. Searching for a face or a voice or a scent. There was nothing but my vast backyard, the gentle splash of raindrops, and the heavy scent of pine and earth. Everything was as it should be. Carefully, I set the book on the sill, moved the stone aside, and picked up the note. In beautiful handwritten script it read,

"Dear _domnişoară_ Renesmee, I am sending this with a colleague of mine in hopes of giving you a warning. The world has changed here. It is not the gentle landscape you experienced almost a year ago. Creatures I was unaware of have crawled out from the darkness. I am not certain how much longer I will be alive. I beseech you to reconsider your place in our world and in this battle. Whatever you choose, decide quickly. There is not much time left.

Sincerely, Ántonia Stoichita"

I reread the note a few times, eventually taking a seat on the bed. I thought of Ántonia often, but only when I was alone, when I knew my father couldn't hear me. Perhaps that was a foolish thing to do given the dire situation it sounded like Ántonia was in. And yet, the note told me nothing. Creatures crawling from the darkness? Who was this colleague?

Jacob entered the room completely unaware of my distress. "Ness, I will do absolutely anything,_ anything_ if you could work on my chemistry homework for me. Now we both know this is something I'll never use in my real life, so give me a break?" he beckoned.

I said nothing. I watched the rain.

* * *

End of Book I

* * *

A/N: Sincere thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. What you have just finished is a fully beta'd version of this story. As you may have noticed, there are many strings which remain to be tied in the plot. That is because there are, in fact, four unbeta'd sequels to this story (which can be found on FFn). The possibility of those stories ever being rewritten and filtered through the beta process is highly unlikely, but if you had an interest in this Nessie and her many foibles, I implore you to continue, just mind the errors.

Thank you to my beta Addicted to Edward, who helped me tremendously in improving my writing. I adore your ideas, your thoughts, and your friendship.


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